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A 

WINTER  IN  THE  WEST. 


VOL. 


I. 


< 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2015 


https://archive.org/details/winterinwestOOhoff 


A 


WINTER  IN  THE  WEST 


BY  A NEW-YORKER. 


Where  can  I journey  to  your  secret  springs, 
Eternal  Nature  1 Onward  still  I press, 

Follow  thy  windings  still,  yet  sigh  for  more. 

Goethe. 


IN  TWO  VOLUMES. 


VOL.  I. 


SECOND  EDITION. 


NEW-YORK: 

PUBLISHED  BY  HARPER  & BROTHERS, 

NO.  82  CLIFF-STREET. 


1835. 


[Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1835,  by  Charles 
F.  Hoffman,  in  the  Office  of  the  Clerk  of  the  Southern  District 
of  New-York.] 


william  h.  colyer,  Printer. 


PREFACE. 


In  preparing  these  letters  for  publication,  the 
writer  has  thought  proper  to  illustrate  some  of 
the  facts  contained  in  them  by  observations  de- 
rived from  other  sources,  or  made  subsequent  to 
their  date.  These  additions  he  has  preferred  to 
place  in  an  Appendix,  rather  than  embody  them 
with  the  original  matter,  as  he  feared  that  what- 
ever attraction  his  sketches  of  scenery  and  man- 
ners might  possess  would  evaporate  upon  throwing 
them  into  a different  form,  and  their  chief  merit 
as  first  and  faithful  impressions  would  be  lost. 
The  eloquent  writings  of  Mr.  Flint,  the  graphic 
sketches  of  Judge  Hall,  and  the  valuable  scientific 
researches  of  Mr.  Schoolcraft,  Professor  Keating, 
and  the  lamented  Say,  have  already  made  the 
regions  described  in  these  pages  well  known  to  the 
public ; but  there  is  an  ever  saliant  freshness  in 
the  theme  of  “ The  Far  West,”  which  prevents  its 
becoming  trite  or  tiresome ; and  as  the  author  be- 


IV 


PREFACE. 


lieves  himself  to  be  the  first  tourist  who  has  taken 
a winter  view  of  scenes  upon  the  Indian  frontier, 
he  trusts  that  this  circumstance  will  impart  some 
degree  of  novelty  to  his  descriptions  in  that  quarter, 
while  the  romantic  beauty  of  the  region  described 
nearer  home  will  bear  its  own  recommendation 
with  it. 


CONTENTS 


OP 

THE  FIRST  VOLUME. 


LETTER  I. 

Route  through  New- Jersey — Easton — Lehigh  Boatmen — ■Pictur- 
esque Scenery — Farming  in  Pennsylvania — Moravian  Institutions 
— Bethlehem  Burial  Ground — The  Capital  of  Pennsylvania — Pecu- 
liarities in  Building — The  Susquehannah — Aspect  of  the  Country 
—Wild  Animals Page  13 

LETTER  II. 

Ascent  of  the  Alleghanies — Mountain  Scenery — Happy  Valley 
— The  Bloody  Run— Sanguinary  Onslaught — Peaceful  Scene — A 
Conflagration — The  Alleghanies — Autumnal  Forest  Scenery.  28 

LETTER  III. 

Vicissitude  of  Climate — Snow-scene — Mountain  Views — Tra- 
velling on  Horseback — Gorgeous  Trappings — Travelling  Emi- 
grants— Dogs — Symptoms  of  an  Accident — National  Road — Town 
of  Wheeling — Noble  Prospect 37 

LETTER  IV. 

Western  Society — Wheeling — An  old  Negro — A Travelling 
Companion — Shores  of  the  Ohio — Scenery  of  the  Ohio — Rapp’s 
Settlement — Approach  to  Pittsburg — the  Monongahela — Our 
Landing 47 

LETTER  V. 

An  Excursion — Field  of  Action — An  Ambuscade — The  Battle 
— Fall  of  Braddock — Character  of  Braddock — Speech  of  an  Indian 
Chief— The  Battle-field — Relic  Hunters — Steam  Engines.  . 55 
VOL.  I. — A 


X 


CONTENTS. 


LETTER  VI. 

Rapid  Rise  of  Pittsburg — Trade  of  Pittsburg — Early  Settlers — 
Unrivalled  View — Remains  of  the  Fort — Water  Works — Grant’s 
Grave — A Morning  Ride — A Coal  Pit — Remains  of  a Mill 
Dam. Page  66 

LETTER  VII. 

Stage-coach  Companions — Leave  Pittsburg — The  Journey — 
Breakfast — Rapp’s  Community— Religious  Freedom — Terrible  Ex- 
ample— Magnificent  Vegetation — Cleaveland — Pleasant  Ride — 
Treacherous  Shore 77 


LETTER  VIII. 

Scene  of  Confusion — New-York  Steamboat — Canine  Passengers 
— Emigrant  Passengers — Family  Relics — Emigrants — Steamers — 
Detroit  River — City  of  Detroit — Public  Buildings — Military  Re- 
mains— General  Hull — A Conversation — An  Adventure — French 
in  Canada — Characters  of  the  French — Horses — New  Arsenal — 
Deer-hunting 87 

LETTER  IX. 

The  Huron  River — Village  of  Monroe — New  Bank — Position  of 
Monroe — Public  Improvements — A Launch — Tecumseh — A Mas- 
sacre— Anecdote — The  Diana — The  River  Raisin — Canals  and 
Railroads — Public  Projects — Garden  of  the  Union.  . . 106 

LETTER  X. 

A Log  Cabin — Stage  coach  Travelling — Banks  of  the  Raisin — 
Forests — A Forest  Cabin — Start  on  our  Journey — Swapping — 
Pet  Fawns — A Canine  Mourner — Pet  Fawn — Pretty  Village — 
Cemeteries — TheGrand  River — Intelligent  Community.  . 118 

LETTER  XI. 

Healthfulness  of  Michigan — A Settler’s  choice  of  Land — Aspect 
of  the  Country — Indians — A Metamorphosis — Grotesque  Company 
— Love  of  Spirituous  Liquors — Africans  and  Indians — Indian 
Civilization — Narrative.  . . : . . . . 129 


LETTER  XII. 

Proposed  Excursion — The  Short  Hills — An  Accident — Loss  of 
my  Horse — Floral  Beauties — My  Horse  again— Solitary  Shantee — 


CONTENTS. 


XI 


Chase  of  a Buck — Prairie  on  Fire — Terror  of  my  Horse — Grim- 
looking  Savage — Snow  storm — Hospitable  Reception — Wild  Coun- 
try— Indian  Graves — Primitive  Guide-posts — Smiling  Landscape — 
Cabin  Dormitory.  : Page  141 

LETTER  XIII. 

New  Inn  of  Marshall — A Railroad  Meeting — Projected  Route — 
Internal  Communication — A Pioneer’s  Speech — Population  of 
Michigan — Price  of  Land — Causes  of  Sickness — Lonely  Scenes — 
Jumpers — Lodge  in  the  Wilderness — Growth  of  Society — Lyon 
Lake — Hunting-ground — Camp  of  Warpkesick — Motley  Group — 
Warpkesick — Rifle  Shooting — An  Indian  Dandy — Our  Departure 
— Death  of  a Buck . 157 

LETTER  XIV. 

Invitation — New  Acquaintances — Border  Talk — Wedding  Com- 
pany— The  Kekalamazoo — Prairie  Ronde — Michigan  Scenery — 
Rope  Ferry — English  Settlers — Beautiful  Hills — Agriculture — 
Lakes — Want  of  Society — Internal  Communication.  . 176 

LETTER  XV. 

Railroad  Travelling — Our  Journey — Land  of  the  Hooshiers — 
Forest  Scene — A French  Driver — His  Disaster — Poor  Victor — 
Lake  Michigan — The  Lake  Shore — Rustic  Hostelrie — Travelling 
Companions — Journey  resumed — Chicago — A Ball — Chicago  Co- 
tillons— The  Ladies — A Puzzle — Wishes.  . . . 188 

LETTER  XVI. 

Intense  Cold — Situation  of  Chicago — Rapid  Rise  of  Chicago — 
Projected  Canal — A Pacing  Match — A Hunt — Mission  of  Charity 
— A fine  Chase — Escape  of  the  Wolf — New  Game — Death  of  a 
Wolf — Value  of  Horses 20*2 

LETTER  XVII. 

Fellow  Passengers — Our  Journey — Our  New  Equipage — Walk- 
er’s Grove — A Disaster — Illimitable  Scene — Prairie  Loo — Accident 
— Log  Cabin — Library — Intellectual  Culture — Grouse — Ottawa — 
Fatal  Affair — Indian  Haters 215 


Xll 


CONTENTS. 


LETTER  XVIII. 

Frozen  Cascade — Banks  of  Vermillion  River — Icy  Descent— 
Indian  Trails — Slippery  Bluffs — Picturesque  Spot — Starved  Rocks 
- — Our  Hostess — Boundless  Plain — Beautiful  Scene — Frozen  Gully 
— Critical  Situation — Danger  from  Frost — A Flourishing  Farmer 
—Wolves — A Travelling  Bride Page  238 

LETTER  XIX. 

Lonely  Prospect — Painted  Pottawattamies — A Borderer — Sup- 
per— Indian  Language — Indian  Encampment — A Runaway — A 
Wolf — Dixon’s  Ferry — Buffalo  Grove — Fatal  Ambush — Secluded 
Dells — Deserted  Cottage — Galena.  .....  242 


LETTER  XX. 

Journey  resumed — Old  Indian  Trader — Picturesque  Costume — 
Striking  Landscape — Literary  Backwoodsman — Hostile  Tribes — 
A Challenge — Beautiful  Country — Sale  of  Lands — Miners — Deso- 
late Region — Upper  Mississippi — Prairie  du  Chien.  . 254 


Appendix.  . 


265 


A 


WINTER  IN  THE  WEST. 


LETTER  I. 

Route  through  New- Jersey — Easton — Lehigh  Boatmen — Pictur- 
esque Scenery — Farming  in  Pennsylvania — Moravian  Institutions 
— Bethlehem  Burial  Ground — The  Capital  of  Pennsylvania — Pecu- 
liarities in  Building — The  Susquehannah — Aspect  of  the  Country — 
"Wild  Animals. 

Harrisburg,  Penn.,  Oct.  22,  1833. 

My  DEAR , 

My  journey  has  not  as  yet  furnished  an  incident 
worthy  of  being  entered  into  the  diary  of  the  most 
unambitious  tourist.  Still  I take  the  first  opportu- 
nity of  fulfilling  the  promise  given,  when  starting 
on  the  wide  excursion  I meditate,  of  writing  from 
the  principal  stages  of  the  route,  and  describing  its 
features  with  sufficient  minuteness  for  those  who 
take  an  interest  in  my  letters  to  accompany  their 
writer  in  his  wanderings.  The  first  stage  of  our 
journey  from  New-Brunswick  (or  Rougemont , as 
some  one  proposes  calling  it,  from  the  colour  of  the 
soil,)  was  as  uninviting  as  a rainy,  disagreeable  day, 
bad  roads,  and  a country  neither  fertile  nor  pic- 

VOL.  i. — B 


14 


BEAUTIFUL  COUNTRY. 


turesque,  could  make  it.  Occasionally,  indeed, 
glimpses  of  the  Raritan  gave  animation  to  the  scene, 
as,  sparkling  restlessly  between  its  cold  brown 
banks,  it  rushes  like  an  ill-matched  bride  from  their 
dreary  embrace  to  sully  its  pure  waters  in  the  marsh 
through  which  it  passes  to  the  sea.  These  glimpses, 
however,  are  but  transient;  and  for  the  remainder 
of  the  drive  but  few  natural  objects  presented  them- 
selves to  induce  one  to  dispute  that  quaint  Indian 
tradition  which  avers,  that  when  the  Manitou  had 
finished  making  the  rest  of  this  mighty  continent, 
he  slapped  from  his  fingers  the  mud  and  gravel 
which  form  this  part  of  New-Jersey. 

The  next  morning,  though  cloudy,  broke  beauti- 
fully. The  country,  as  we  approached  the  borders 
of  Pennsylvania,  increased  in  interest.  Richly- 
wooded  hills,  with  here  and  there  a fertile  slope 
evincing  a high  state  of  cultivation,  shone  out  be- 
neath the  fitful  sky.  Farm  houses,  built  of  gray 
stone,  and  standing  sometimes  in  a clump  of  syca- 
mores aloof  from  the  road,  had  an  air  of  quiet  com- 
fort. The  streams  from  the  uplands  were  more 
frequent,  and  their  currents  flowed  with  heightened 
animation.  The  roads  indeed  wrere  worse  than  in- 
different ; but  that,  though  a sudden  rain  soon  set  in, 
did  not  prevent  our  enjoying  the  clouded  but  still 
beautiful  landscape. 

We  crossed  the  bridge  over  the  Delaware  to 
Easton  at  about  two  o’clock,  and  put  up  at  an  ex- 
cellent inn.  Having  ordered  dinner,  we  strolled 
out  to  see  the  lions  of  the  place.  The  roar  of  a 
waterfall  was  the  first  thing  which  attracted  my  no- 


THE  GREAT  DAM. 


15 


tice,  and,  following  the  sound,  I soon  found  myself 
near  the  great  dam  over  the  Lehigh,  where,  at  its 
junction  with  the  Delaware,  back-water  is  created 
to  supply  the  Lehigh  Canal.  The  pond  thus 
formed,  with  its  abrupt  banks,  and  frowning  lime- 
stone cliffs  wooded  to  the  top,  might  almost  pass  for 
a small  natural  lake.  It  is  filled  with  small  craft, — 
the  lubberly-looking  ark,  and  sharp  clean-built  Dur- 
ham boat,  lying  moored  by  the  shore,  with  nume- 
rous light  skiffs  drawn  up  near  them.  I easily  pro- 
cured one  of  the  latter,  and  shooting  under  the 
chain  bridge  which  crosses  the  Lehigh,  the  wind 
and  current  carried  me  in  a moment  past  stone 
wharfs  heaped  with  anthracite  coal  to  the  brink  of 
the  dam.  The  sudden  slope  of  the  water  here  had 
an  awkward  look  about  it,  which  reminded  me 
vividly  of  a peep  I once  took  from  a row-boat  into 
“ the  Pot,”  at  Hell-gate,  when  its  screwing  eddies 
carried  the  eye  with  a strange  fascination  deep  into 
the  boiling  caldron.  Bending  heartily  to  my  oars, 
I was  glad  to  leave  the  glassy  brim  that  sloped  so 
smoothly  to  destruction. 

The  operations  of  a keel-boat  working  up  against 
the  rapid  current  of  the  Delaware  next  caught  my 
attention.  She  had  four  men  to  manage  her — the 
roughest,  hardiest-looking  set  of  fellows  I ever  saw, 
broad-shouldered  and  brawny,  with  complexions  like 
copper,  and  having  no  covering  to  their  heads  but 
coarse  curly  hair,  matted  so  thick  that  it  looked  as 
if  the  stroke  of  a sabre  might  almost  be  turned  by 
it.  The  strength  and  agility  of  these  fellows  is 
very  striking,  as  they  stride  along  the  gunwale  with 


16 


THE  HARDY  BOATMEN. 


their  long  poles,  and  twist  themselves  into  all  sorts 
of  positions  while  urging  their  unwilling  craft 
against  the  foaming  current.  After  they  had  gained 
and  passed  the  lock,  and  floated  into  the  basin 
where  my  boat  was  lying,  I could  not  help  rowing 
near  theirs  to  examine  their  iron  frames  more  nar- 
rowly. Such  a collection  of  bold,  reckless,  impu- 
dent faces  I had  never  before  seen ; and  my  sur- 
mises in  physiognomy  were  fully  confirmed  by  a 
volley  of  billingsgate  which  one  of  them  let  fly  at 
me.  It  being  perfectly  in  character,  I was  of  course 
much  amused  at  it,  and  by  gently  lying  on  my  oars 
and  looking  at  him,  incensed  my  amiable  acquaint- 
ance to  a degree  that  was  irresistibly  ludicrous.  I 
waited  till  he  was  exhausted ; and  when  he  wound 
up  by  “ d — ing  my  spectacles,”  I reflected  with  Dr. 
Franklin,  that  it  was  not  the  first  time  they  had 
saved  my  eyes  ; and  mentally  consigning  the  fellow 
to  the  tender  mercies  of  Hall  and  Trollope,  pulled 
for  the  berth  of  my  little  shallop,  and  soon  after  re- 
gained my  quarters. 

The  situation  of  this  village  is  eminently  happy — 
almost  picturesque,  and  the  country  around  it  de- 
lightful. 

The  chief  buildings  are  the  County  Court  House, 
situated  in  an  open  square  in  the  centre  of  the 
place,  and  the  Lafayette  College,  which,  from  a 
commanding  position  over  the  Bushkill,  faces  one 
of  the  principal  streets.  Easton  is  celebrated  for 
the  rich  mineralogical  specimens  found  in  its  vi- 
cinity. The  salubrity  of  the  place,  as  I am  in- 
formed by  an  eminent  physician,  is  remarkable ; 


FARMING  IN  PHILADELPHIA. 


17 


and  one  can  readily  believe  in  its  exemption  from 
most  of  the  fevers  of  the  country,  from  the  fact  of 
there  being  no  woodcock-ground  within  five  miles 
of  the  court-house.  The  site  was  chosen  and  the 
town-plat  laid  out  byPenn.  The  descendants  of  the 
great  colonizer  are  still  said  to  own  property  in 
Easton  ; while  the  peaceful  members  of  his  brother- 
hood, in  our  day,  bless  his  memory  when  turning 
up  the  jasper  arrow-head  within  the  precincts  of  the 
village,  and  thank  heaven  for  the  teacher  whose 
gentle  counsels  withdrew  for  ever  from  this  lovely 
valley  the  red  archers  that  shot  them. 

From  Easton  to  Rodrocksville,  a hamlet  where 
we  passed  the  next  night,  every  mile  of  our  route 
gives  some  new  occasion  to  admire  the  scale  upon 
which  farming  is  conducted  in  Pennsylvania.  The 
fences,  indeed,  are  not  remarkable  for  the  order  in 
which  they  are  kept;  but  while  the  enclosures  them- 
selves are  tilled  with  a nicety  which  preserves  the 
utmost  verge  of  a field  from  shooting  up  into  weeds 
or  brushwood,  the  barns  into  which  their  harvests 
are  gathered  are  so  spaciously  and  solidly  built, 
that  they  want  only  architectural  design  to  rival  in 
appearance  the  most  ambitious  private  mansions. 
Stone  is  almost  the  only  material  used  here  in  build- 
ing ; and  the  massive  profusion  in  which  not  only 
the  barns,  but  the  smallest  out-houses  upon  the 
premises  of  these  sturdy  husbandmen,  are  piled 
upon  their  fertile  acres,  is  such  as  would  astonish 
and  delight  the  agriculturist  accustomed  only  to  the 
few  and  frail  structures  with  which  the  farmers  of 

b 2 


18 


PICTURESQUE  COUNTRY. 


most  other  sections  of  our  country  content  them- 
selves. 

The  most  picturesque  country  we  have  yet  seen, 
however,  is  that  immediately  around  Easton.  In- 
deed, the  first  view  that  opened  upon  us  when  gain- 
ing the  brow  of  a wooded  hill,  about  half  a mile  from 
the  town,  was  so  fine  as  to  make  us  forget  the  re- 
gret with  which  we  had  a few  moments  before  bid 
adieu  to  our  prince  of  landlords  and  his  blooming 
daughters. 

The  Lehigh,  for  about  half  a mile  in  extent,  lay 
in  the  form  of  a crescent  beneath  us — a wooded  ra- 
vine striking  down  to  either  horn,  and  undulating 
fields,  some  ruddy  with  buckwheat  stubble,  and 
some  green  from  the  newly-sprouting  wheat,  filled 
up  the  curves.  A gray-stone  barn  stood  here  and 
there  on  an  eminence  against  the  bright  morning 
sky;  while,  sheltered  below  on  the  alluvial  flats 
formed  by  the  river,  a white-walled  cottage  might 
be  seen  reposing  by  its  cheerful  current.  The  Le- 
high Canal,  winding  through  the  valley,  side  by  side 
with  the  river,  like  a younger  sister  bent  on  the 
same  errand,  added  not  a little,  when  viewed  at 
such  a distance,  to  the  beauties  of  the  scene. 

We  took  our  breakfast  at  Bethlehem,  and  avail- 
ing myself  of  an  hour’s  delay  while  the  horses  were 
feeding,  I left  my  friend  puzzling  himself  over  a 
German  newspaper,  and  strolled  off  to  look  at  the 
village.  It  is  a place  of  considerable  interest,  not 
less  on  account  of  its  ancient  and  peculiar  appear- 
ance than  the  Moravian  institutions  which  have 


MORAVIAN  INSTITUTIONS. 


19 


rendered  it  so  celebrated.  I was  fortunate  enough 
to  meet  with  the  principal  of  the  female  seminary, 
who,  upon  my  asking  him  some  trivial  question 
about  that  excellent  establishment,  offered  in  the 
most  polite  manner,  though  I was  wholly  unknown 
to  him,  to  show  me  through  the  building.  It  is  a 
plain  stone  structure,  of  some  eighty  feet  in  length, 
subdivided  internally  into  lecture-rooms  and  dormi- 
tories, like  some  of  our  colleges;  one  range  of  small 
apartments  being  used  entirely  as  washing  rooms 
by  the. pupils,  and  having  all  the  necessary  furni- 
ture for  that  purpose  neatly  arranged  about  each. 
These,  like  every  other  part  of  the  establishment, 
have  their  peculiar  superintendent ; and  standing 
thus  distinctly  by  themselves,  form  an  essential 
feature  in  the  economy  of  the  institution,  and,  with 
the  extensive  play-grounds  in  the  rear  of  the  build- 
ing,' evince  the  attention  which  is  paid  to  the  health 
and  personal  habits,  as  well  as  the  intellectual  im- 
provement, of  its  inmates.  I was  shown  into  the 
school  rooms  of  the  several  classes,  and  had  ample 
opportunity,  as  the  ruddy  bright-eyed  occupants 
rose  to  receive  my  conductor,  to  observe  the  happy 
effect  of  the  life  tTiey  led  upon  their  personal  ap- 
pearance. A fresher,  fairer  assemblage  of  youthful 
beauty  has  rarely  greeted  my  eyes.  Several  of  the 
apartments  were  furnished  with  pianos,  and  my  cu- 
rious entrance  into  these  smiling  domains  startled 
more  than  one  young  musician  from  her  morning’s 
practising. 

I subsequently  visited  the  burial  ground  of  the 
place,  which  I contemplated  with  no  slight  interest. 


20 


BURIAL  GROUND. 


The  disposal  of  the  dead  is  as  true  a test  of  civili- 
zation in  a community  as  the  social  relations  of  the 
living.  The  taste  which  embellishes  life  passes 
with  the  arts  attendant  upon  it  from  one  nation  to 
another,  like  a merchantable  commodity;  but  the 
sentiment  that  would  veil  the  dreariness  of  the 
grave,  and  throw  a charm  even  around  the  sepul- 
chre ; that  would  hide  the  forbidding  features  of 
that  formal  mound,  and  shelter  the  ashes  beneath  it 
from  contumely ; this  is  a characteristic  springing 
from  some  peculiar  tone  of  national  feeling,  and 
radically  distinctive  of  the  community  that  possesses 
it.  The  philosopher,  it  is  true,  may  sneer  at  our 
care  of  this  bodily  machine  when  the  principle  that 
gave  it  motion  has  ceased  to  actuate  it:  but  how 
stolid  is  he  who  can  look  upon  the  ruin  of  a noble 
edifice,  even  though  made  irretrievably  desolate, 
with  apathy ; or  who  would  not  fence  up  from  in- 
trusive dilapidation  halls  hallowed,  whether  by  the 
recollection  of  our  own  personal  enjoyments  or  the 
memory  of  the  great  and  good  of  other  times.  It  is 
one  and  the  same  feeling  which  arrests  our  steps 
beneath  a mouldering  fortress,  and  which  induces 
a pilgrimage  to  the  tomb  of  a departed  poet ; which 
kindles  our  indignation  against  the  plunderer  of  the 
Parthenon — that  “ titled  pilferer  of  what  Time  and 
Turks  had  spared and  which  makes  it  ready  to 
consume  the  wretches  who  tore  the  bones  of  Milton 
from  his  sepulchre. 

The  Bethlehem  burial-ground  stands  aloof  from 
the  bustling  part  of  the  village,  near  a noble  church, 
which  still  faces  on  one  of  the  principal  streets. 


MORAVIAN  GRAVES. 


21 


The  approach  from  the  church,  which  has  grounds 
of  its  own,  in  the  form  of  an  ornamented  terrace 
around  it,  is  through  a narrow  green  lane.  At  the 
entrance  of  this,  shaded  by  a clump  of  willows, 
stands  a small  stone  building,  called,  I believe,  from 
the  purposes  to  which  it  is  applied,  “ The  Dead 
House.”  Here  the  bodies  of  the  dead  are  deposited 
+ for  many  hours  previous  to  interment.  The  head 
is  left  uncovered ; and  life,  if  by  any  possibility  it 
be  yet  remaining,  has  a chance  of  renewing  its  en- 
ergies before  the  tomb  closes  for  ever  over  its  vic- 
tim. I looked  through  the  grated  windows,  but 
saw  nothing  except  an  empty  bier  in  the  centre, 
and  several  shells  adapted  to  coffins  of  different 
sizes  leaning  against  the  wall.  With  the  usual  per- 
versity of  human  nature,  I half  regretted  that  the 
solemn  chamber  was  at  the  moment  untenanted,, 
and  passed  on  to  the  place  of  which  it  is  the  thresh- 
old. 

There  my  eye  was  met  by  the  same  neat  ap- 
pearances and  severe  taste  which  seem  to  prevail 
throughout  the  economy  of  the  Moravians.  The 
graves,  arranged  in  rows,  with  an  avenue  through 
the  centre  dividing  the  males  from  the  females,  are 
in  the  form  of  an  oblong  square,  flattened  on  the 
top,  with  a small  slab  reposing  in  the  centre.  On 
this  are  cut  simply  the  name  of  the  deceased,  and 
the  dates  of  his  birth  and  death;  a meagre  memo- 
rial, but  enough  : and  I could  not  help — after  deci- 
phering a number  of  these  moss-covered  stones, 
upon  which  the  dews  of  more  than  a century  had 
wept — turning  with  distaste  from  a few  flaring  mar- 


22 


HARRISBURG. 


ble  slabs  at  the  farther  end  of  the  yard,  upon  which 
the  virtues  of  those  beneath  were  emblazoned  in 
the  most  approved  modern  forms. 

I left  the  spot,  thinking  it  a pity  that  a greater 
number  of  trees  did  not,  by  shading  the  grounds, 
complete  their  beauty;  and  felt  willing  that  the 
young  locusts  which  skirt  them  round  should  have 
time  to  fling  their  branches  farther  towards  the 
centre,  before  I should  have  occasion  to  claim  the 
hospitality  of  the  place. 

I now  write  to  you  from  the  banks  of  the  Susque- 
hannah.  A dull  steady  rain  prevails  out  of  doors ; 
and  after  wading  through  the  mud  about  the  pur- 
lieus of  this  place  for  an  hour,  I am  glad  to  be 
housed  at  last  for  the  rest  of  the  day.  I see  the 
capital  of  Pennsylvania  under  every  disadvantage, 
but  still  am  pleased  with  it.  Although  a city  in 
miniature  (and  this  contains  only  four  or  five  thou- 
sand inhabitants)  is  generally  odious  to  one  who  has 
resided  in  a metropolis — reminding  him  perhaps  of 
Goose  Gibbie  in  jack-boots,  at  the  Review  of 
Tillietudlem- — there  is  much  in  the  appearance  of 
Harrisburg  to  reconcile  the  most  captious  to  its 
assumption  of  civic  honours.  The  manner  in  which 
the  place  is  laid  out  and  built,  the  substantial  im- 
provements going  forward,  and  the  degree  of  wealth 
and  enterprise  manifested  in  those  already  made, 
and,  above  all,  its  beautiful  site,  make  it  an  excep- 
tion to  the  generally  uninteresting  character  of 
country  towns. 

The  chief  part  of  the  town  lies  on  a piece  of 
champaign  land,  about  forty  feet  above  the  level  of 


HARRISBURG. 


23 


the  Susquehannah ; the  handsomest  street  in  the 
place,  though  occupied  chiefly  by  petty  tradesmen 
and  mechanics,  verging  on  the  waters  of  that  lovely 
stream.  The  other  streets  run  at  right  angles  to, 
and  parallel  with,  the  river,  which  is  nearly  straight, 
except  where  it  washes  the  town  with  a graceful 
bend  near  the  suburbs  of  either  end.  Facing  the 
Susquehannah,  at  the  upper  part  of  the  town,  and 
only  a few  hundred  yards  from  the  river,  is  a sud- 
den elevation,  rising  into  a level  platform,  about 
sixty  feet  above  the  surrounding  plain.  Upon  this 
eminence,  fronting  the  river  through  a broad  street, 
stands  the  capitol  and  state  buildings,  containing 
the  chief  public  offices.  The  centre  edifice,  and 
one  standing  detached  on  either  side,  are  all  orna- 
mented with  Grecian  porticos;  and  their  size,  their 
simple  design,  and  just  architectural  proportions, 
would  make  an  imposing  display,  and  impress  a 
stranger  favourably  until  he  ascertained  the  paltry 
material  of  which  they  are  built.  But  I defy  any 
one,  to  have  one  respectful  association  with  a 
structure  of  brick.  Putting  the  perishable  nature 
of  the  material  entirely  out  of  the  question,  although 
a sufficient  objection  to  its  use  in  a public  building, 
its  size  alone  is  fatal  to  ^effect  in  a structure  of  any 
pretension.  For  it  is  massiveness  in  the  details,  as 
well  as  in  combination,  which  delights  the  beholder 
in  architectural  forms  ; and  the  pyramids  of  Eygpt 
themselves,  if  reared  of  boyish  marbles,  though 
they  might  be  so  ingeniously  put  together  as  to 
awaken  curiosity,  could  never  inspire  awe. 

What  a singular  perversion  of  taste  is  that  exist- 


24 


VILLAGE  OF  READING. 


ing  in  the  towns  and  villages  through  which  I am 
passing,  which  induces  the  inhabitants  to  make 
their  barns  and  cowsheds  of  solid  stone,  and  their 
ornamental  buildings  of  brick  and  stucco.  I some- 
times see  Gothic  churches  of  the  first,  and  Grecian 
fronts  of  the  last ; and  these  not  unfrequently 
planted  in  the  midst  of  a cluster  of  gray  mansions, 
whose  towering  gables,  huge  stone  buttresses,  and 
deep-cut  narrow  windows,  make  the  former  show 
like  some  pert  poplar  thrusting  his  dandy  figure 
among  a clump  of  hoary  oaks.  Still  one  cannot 
but  admire  the  air  of  comfort— I might  almost  say 
of  opulence — which  prevails  throughout  the  country 
I am  traversing.  This,  in  the  village  of  Reading, 
through  which  we  passed  yesterday,  is  particularly 
the  case.  It  has  a population  of  about  seven  thou- 
sand inhabitants  ; and  the  numerous  coaches  filled 
with  passengers  which  pass  daily  through  it,  the 
wagons  loaded  with  produce  that  throng  the  streets 
of  the  place,  and  the^  rich  display  of  goods  and 
fancy  articles  in  the  shops,  give  Reading  a most 
flourishing  appearance.  It  is  prettily  situated  on 
the  Schuylkill,  with  a range  of  high  rocky  hills  in 
the  rear  ; but  its  position  wants  the  picturesque 
beauty  of  Harrisburg.  Here  the  Susquehannah 
is,  I should  think,  full  half  a mile  wide.  It  is 
studded  with  wooded  islets,  and  flows  between 
banks  which,  though  not  very  bold  in  themselves, 
yet  rise  with  sufficient  dignity  from  the  margin,  and 
blend  with  the  undulating  country,  until  the  arable 
slopes  and  sunny  orchards  are  bounded  by  a distant 
range  of  mountains. 


THE  SUSQUEHANNAH. 


25 


P.  S. — October  23. — The  rain  still  continued  when 
I left  Harrisburg  this  morning,  and  the  windings  of 
the  river  were  lost  in  the  mist  which  hung  over 
them.  My  disappointment  at  not  having  seen  more 
of  the  Susquehannah  is  not  slight,  and  the  feeling 
is  enhanced  by  a delicious  glance  I caught  of  its 
waters  in  the  sunlight,  as  the  clouds  parted  for  a 
moment,  just  as  a turning  of  the  road  shut  out  the 
view  behind  us.  I almost  grew  melancholy  while 
recalling  with  a sort  of  home  feeling  the  delight 
with  which,  years  ago,  I first  beheld  its  sources,  to 
remember  now  that  it  was  the  last  stream  running 
eastward  from  the  mountains  that  I should  see  for 
a bong  time  to  come.  And  then  those  calm,  gentle 
waters,  which  flow  as  smoothly  as  the  verse  of 
him  who  has  immortalized  them,  once  seen,  are 
never  to  be  forgotten  nor  passed  again  without  in- 
terest. The  Susquehannah  has  its  birth  in  one  of 
the  loveliest  of  lakes,  and  wherever  it  wanders, 
retains  the  bright  green  surface  and  transparent 
depth  of  its  parent  waters.  Its  winding  current, 
unbroken  by  cascade  or  rapids,  whether  stealing 
through  the  rich  fields  and  beautiful  glens  of  Otsego, 
or  smiling  along  the  storied  vale  of  Wyoming, 
seems  to  loiter  enamoured  of  those  lovely  regions, 
as  if  reluctant  to  leave  them  and  pass  onward  on  its 
long  journey  to  the  ocean.  For  grandeur  of 
scenery,  indeed,  the  Hudson  far  surpasses  it ; and 
where  is  the  stream  that  can  match  that  lordly  river ! 
But  there  is  a gentle  beauty  about  the  Susque- 
hannah which  touches  without  striking,  and  wins 
while  you  are  unawed.  The  one,  like  a fair  face 

VOL.  I, C 


26 


ASPECT  OF  THE  COUNTRY. 


lit  up  with  glorious  intellect,  commands  and  exacts 
your  homage ; with  the  other,  as  with  features 
softened  with  tenderness,  you  leave  your  heart  as 
an  offering. 

We  are  now  on  the  main  road  from  Philadelphia 
to  Pittsburg.  The  only  change  I observe  in  the  face 
of  the  country  is,  that,  instead  of  being  broken  up 
into  small  hills,  where  forest  and  cultivation  are 
most  happily  mingled — as  around  Bethlehem — the 
vales  here  spread  out  into  plains;  and  the  high 
grounds  receding,  swell  off  till  they  show  like  moun- 
tains in  the  distance.  I miss,  too,  those  fine  barns 
upon  which  I have  dwelt  with  so  much  pleasure ; 
nor  do  the  better  fencing  and  spruce-looking  dwell- 
ing houses  compensate  for  the  loss  of  the  imposing 
appearance  of  such  huge  granaries  in  an  agricultural 
country.  I thought,  when  first  observing  the 
change,  and  marking  the  herds  of  cattle  and  droves 
of  sheep  that  sometimes  throng  the  roads,  that  we 
had  got  at  last  completely  into  a grazing  region. 
But  the  delicious  wheat  bread  met  with  at  the 
humblest  inns,  with  the  little  stock  to  be  seen  in  the 
fields,  seems  to  indicate  that  such  is  not  the  case. 
It  seems  odd,  in  a country  so  thickly  settled,  where 
one  meets  a hamlet  at  every  two  or  three  miles, 
with  scattering  houses  at  frequent  intervals  betwreen 
them,  that  wild  animals  should  be  yet  abundant. 
But  I was  told  at  Bethlehem,  that  it  was  not  un- 
common to  kill  bears  upon  the  neighbouring  hills ; 
and  a gentleman  informed  me  this  morning,  that 
they  frequently  drove  deer  into  the  Susquehannah 
within  a few  miles  of  Harrisburg.  I can  account 


WILD  ANIMALS. 


27 


for  it  only  by  the  fine  forests  which  are  every  where 
left  standing  isolated  in  the  midst  of  cultivated  tracts, 
making  so  many  links  in  the  chain  of  woodland, 
from  mountain  to  mountain  across  the  country,  and 
tempting  the  wild  animals,  while  it  extends  their 
range,  to  venture  near  to  the  settlements. 

You  may  be  aware  that  in  the  State  of  New- 
York,  owing  to  the  wholesale  manner  in  which 
clearings  are  made,  the  deer  are  swept  off  with  the 
forests  that  sheltered  them,  and,  retreating  into  the 
mountain  fastnesses  of  the  northern  counties,  or  the 
rude  wilds  of  the  southern  tier,  are  there  crowded 
so  thickly  as  to  be  butchered  for  their  skins.  In 
the  former  region,  while  fishing,  within  a few  weeks 
since,  among  the  picturesque  lakes  which  stud  the 
surface  of  the  country,  I have  seen  the  deer  grazing 
like  tamed  cattle  on  the  banks.  It  was  a beautiful 
sight  to  behold  a noble  buck  calmly  raising  his  head 
as  the  skiff  from  which  we  trolled  approached  the 
margin ; and  then,  after  standing  a moment  at  gaze, 
toss  his  antlers  high  in  air,  and  with  a snort  of 
defiance  bound  into  the  forest. 

Farewell ! You  shall  hear  from  me  again  so 
soon  as  we  pass  the  Alleghanies,  the  first  purple 
ridge  of  which  I can  already  see  limning  the  sky  in 
the  distance.  In  the  mean  time,  I will  note  down 
anything  of  interest  which  catches  my  eye,  and 
endeavour  to  give  you  hereafter  some  idea  of  the 
lofty  landmark  which,  before  you  read  this,  will 
be  placed  between  us. 


28 


ASCEND  THE  ALLEGHANIES. 


LETTER  II. 

Ascent  of  the  Alleghanies — Mountain  Scenery — Happy  Valley 
— The  Bloody  Run — Sanguinary  Onslaught — Peaceful  Scene — A 
Conflagration — The  Alleghanies — Autumnal  Forest  Scenery. 

Bedford,  Penn.,  Oct.  24, 1833. 

~v 

We  have  commenced  ascending  the  Alleghanies. 
A cold,  difficult  ride  among  the  hills  has  brought 
us  at  last  to  an  excellent  inn  in  the  little  town  from 
which  I write.  A blazing  fire  of  seasoned  oak  in 
a large  open  stove  sputters  and  crackles  before  me  ; 
and  after  having  warmed  my  fingers,  and  spent 
some  twenty  minutes  in  examining  an  extensive  col- 
lection of  Indian  arms  and  equipments,  arranged 
around  the  room  with  a degree  of  taste  that  would 
not  have  disgraced  the  study  of  Sir  Walter  Scott,  I 
sit  down  quietly  to  give  you  my  first  impressions  of 
this  mountain  region. 

We  entered  these  highlands  yesterday;  S.,  who 
values  himself  upon  being  a great  whip,  driving  his 
ponies  up  the  ascent,  and  I,  on  horseback.  It  was 
about  an  hour  before  sunset  that  we  commenced 
ascending  a mountain  ridge,  whose  deep  blue  out- 
line, visible  for  many  a long  mile  before  we  reached 
the  base,  might  be  mistaken  in  the  distance  for  the 
loftier  rampart  of  which  it  is  only  the  outpost.  The 
elevation,  which  showed  afar  off  like  a straight  line 


MOUNTAIN  SCENERY. 


29 


along  the  horizon,  became  broken  in  appearance  as 
the  eye,  at  a nearer  view,  measured  its  ragged 
eminences ; but  it  was  not  till  we  were  winding  up 
a broad  hollow  scooped  out  of  the  hill  side,  and 
through  which  the  beams  of  the  declining  sun  play- 
ed upon  the  fields  and  farm  houses  beyond,  that  the 
true  character  of  the  adjacent  region  opened  upon  us. 
The  ridge  we  were  ascending  still  rose  like  a huge 
wall  before  us ; but  the  peaks,  which  had  seemed 
to  lean  against  the  clear  October  sky,  like  loftier 
summits  of  the  same  elevation,  now  stood  apart 
from  the  frowning  barrier,  towering  up  each  from  it& 
own  base — the  bastions  of  the  vast  rampart  we  were 
scaling.  Each  step  of  our  ascent  seemed  to  bring 
out  some  new  beauty,  as,  at  the  successive  turns  of 
the  road,  the  view  eastward  was’ widened  or  con- 
tracted by  the  wrnoded  glen  up  which  it  led.  But 
all  of  these  charming  glimpses,  though  any  of  them 
would  have  made  a fine  cabinet  picture,  were  for- 
gotten in  the  varied  prospect  that  opened  upon  us 
at  the  summit  of  the  ridge.  Behind,  towards  the 
east,  evening  seemed  almost  to  have  closed  in  upon 
the  hamlet  from  which  we  had.  commenced  our 
ascent  at  the  base  of  the  mountain;  but  beyond  its 
deepening  shadow,  the  warm  sunset  smiled  over  a 
thousand  orchards  and  cultivated  fields,  dotted  with 
farm  houses,  and  relieved  by  patches  of  woodland, 
whose,  gorgeous  autumnal  tints  made  them  show 
like  the  flower-beds  of  one  broad  garden.  South- 
wardly, the  sweeping  upland,  which  here  heaved 
at  once  from  the  arable  grounds  beneath  us,  while  it 

c 2 


30 


MOUNTAIN  SCENERY, 


swelled  higher,  rose  less  suddenly  from  the  plain. 
At  one  point  the  brown  fields  seemed  to  be  climbing 
its  slopes,  while  here  and  there  a smooth  meadow 
ran  like  the  frith  of  a sea  within  its  yawning  glens ; 
and  now  again  peak  after  peak  of  this  part  of  the 
range  could  be  traced  for  leagues  away,  till  the  last 
blue  summit  melted  into  the  sky,  and  was  finally 
lost  in  the  mellow  distance.  Such,  while  our  horses’ 
heads  were  turned  to  the  north-west,  was  the  rich 
and  varied  view  behind  us : the  prospect  from  the 
Catskills  is  the  only  one  I can  recollect  that  rivals  it 
in  magnificence.  But  another  scene,  more  striking, 
though  not  so  imposing,  was  also  at  hand — a ridge 
like  that  we  had  just  crossed  rose  before  us;  but 
beneath  our  very  feet,  and  apparently  so  near,  that  it 
seemed  as  if  one 'might  drop  a stone  into  its  bosom, 
lay  one  of  the  loveliest  little  valleys  that  the  sun 
ever  shone  into.  It  was  not  a mile  in  width,  beau- 
tifully cultivated,  and  with  one  small  village  reposing 
in  its  very  centre : the  southern  extremity  seemed 
to  wind  among  the  lofty  hills  I have  already  at- 
tempted to  describe ; but  its  confines  towards  the 
north  were  at  once  determined  by  a cluster  of  high- 
lands, whose  unequal  summits  waved  boldly  forth 
in  the  purple  light  of  evening.  The  sun,  which  had 
now  withdrawn  his  beams  from  the  scene  behind  us, 
still  lingered  near  this  lovely  spot;  and  his  last 
glances,  before  they  reached  the  hill  side  we  were 
descending,  flashed  upon  the  windows  of  the  village 
church,  and,  creeping  unwillingly  up  its  spire, 
touched  with  glory  the  gilded  vane ; then,  from  the 


THE  DESCENT. 


31 


sweeping  cone  of  a pine  above  us,  smiling  wistfully 
back  on  the  landscape  he  was  leaving,  yielded  it  at 
last  to  coming  night. 

The  descent  of  the  mountain,  from  its  multiplied 
windings,  consumed  more  time  than  I had  antici- 
pated. The  faint  rays  of  a young  moon  were  just 
beginning  to  compete  successfully  with  the  fading 
tints  of  day,  before  we  had  neared  the  village  suffi- 
ciently to  hear  the  lowing  of  cattle  and  the  shrill 
shout  of  the  cow-boy  driving  his  charge  homeward ; 
and  her  maturer  beams  were  softened,  by  the  thin 
haze  which  rose  imperceptibly  from  a brook  winding 
through  the  valley,  before  we  reached  our  destina- 
tion for  the  night.  The  occasional  jingling  of  a 
wagoner’s  bells  in  the  distance,  and  the  merriment 
of  a group  of  children  playing  by  the  moonlight  in 
a grassy  field  near  the  stream,  were  the  only  sounds 
that  broke  the  stillness  of  the  scene  as  we  drove  up 
to  the  door.  I thought  of  the  happy  valley  of  Ras- 
selas,  and  wondered  whether  the  inhabitants  of  this 
secluded  spot  could  really  ever  wish  to  wander  be- 
yond its  beautiful  precincts. 

The  gradual,  successive,  and  delicious  blending 
of  lights,  as  I have  attempted  to  describe  them,  un- 
der which  I first  beheld,  the  little  valley  of  M‘Con- 
nelsville,  will  doubtless  account  for  much  of  my  ad- 
miration of  it ; and  indeed  some  of  its  features  were 
changed,  and  not  for  the  better,  when  viewed  under 
a different  aspect  the  next  morning.  A sharp  north- 
easter, in  spite  of  the  barriers  which  had  seemed  to 
shelter  it,  drove  down  the  valley ; a cold  drizzling 
rain,  with  its  attendant  mist,  shut  from  view  the 


32 


THE  BLOODY  RUN. 


mountain  tops  around ; and  the  village  dwellings, 
lining  one  long  narrow  street,  and  now  no  longer 
gilded  with  the  hues  of  sunset,  nor  standing  clearly 
out  in  the  silver  light  of  the  moon,  appeared  in  their 
true  guise  of  miserable  hovels : the  snug  stone 
house  where  I had  passed  the  night  seemed  to  be 
almost  the  only  tolerable  building  in  the  village ; and 
I was  not  sorry  to  pass  its  last  straggling  enclosure, 
and  commence  ascending  the  arduous  height  be- 
yond. The  summit  of  this  attained,  another  valley, 
about  double  the  width  of  that  just  passed,  lay  be- 
fore us ; and  as  the  rain  subsided  at  noon,  leaving 
a gloomy  lowering  day,  we  could  discover  through 
the  cold  gray  atmosphere,  ridge  succeeding  to  ridge, 
leaning  like  successive  layers  against  the  western 
sky. 

A half  day’s  rough  ride  among  these  wild  ravines 
brought  us  at  last  to  the  banks  of  the  Juniata,  along 
which  an  excellent  road  is  cut  for  some  distance. 
The  stream,  though  in  the  midst  of  scenery  of  the 
boldest  description,  keeps  its  way  so  calmly  be- 
tween its  rocky  banks,  that  the  dead  leaf  upon  its 
bosom  floats  many  a mile  before  a ripple  curls  over 
its  crisped  sides,  and  sinks  the  little  shallop  to  the 
bottom.  We  dined  near  nightfall  at  a small  ham- 
let known,  from  a brook  that  runs  through  it,  as 
“ The  Bloody  Run.”  The  stream  which  bears  this 
startling  name  is  a rill  so  small,  that  its  existence  is 
barely  perceptible  as  it  creeps  through  the  pebbles 
across  the  road,  and  hastens  to  hide  its  slender  cur- 
rent in  the  long  grass  of  an  orchard  beyond  ; but  its 
waters  will  be  pointed  out  by  the  villager  with  in- 


SANGUINARY  onslaught. 


33 


terest,  so  long  as  they  damp  the  channel  where  they 
once  flowed  in  all  the  pride  and  fulness  of  a moun- 
tain torrent. 

It  was  several  years  before  the  revolution,  accord- 
ing to  the  statement  given  to  me  by  one  of  those 
distinguished  persons  who  in  country  towns  always 
figure  after  a great  storm  or  freshet  as  the  “ oldest 
inhabitant  of  the  place,”  that  a large  party  of  colo- 
nists, on  their  march  towards  Fort  Du  Quesne,  were 
here  cut  off  by  the  Indians.  The  ambushed  foe 
had  allowed  the  main  body  to  pass  the  brook  and 
surmount  the  heights  beyond ; and  the  rear-guard, 
with  the  cattle  they  had  in  leading  for  the  use  of 
the  troops,  were  drinking  from  the  stream  when  the 
onslaught  was  made.  The  Indians  rushed  from 
their  covert,  and  burst  upon  their  victims  so  sud- 
denly, that  fifty  whites  were  massacred  almost  be- 
fore resistance  was  attempted.  Those  who  were 
standing  were  dropped  like  deer  at  gaze  by  the 
forest  marksmen ; and  those  who  were  stooping 
over  the  stream,  before  they  even  heard  the  charg- 
ing yell  of  their  assailants,  received  the  blow  from 
the  tomahawk  which  mingled  their  life’s  blood  with 
the  current  from  which  they  were  drinking. 

The  retribution  of  the  whites  is  said  to  have  been 
furious  and  terrible.  The  body  of  men  in  advance 
returned  upon  their  tracks,  encamped  upon  the  spot, 
and  after  duly  fortifying  themselves,  divided  into 
parties,  and  scoured  the  forest  for  leagues.  My  in- 
formant, who  gave  me  only  the  traditionary  account 
of  the  village,  could  not  tell  how  long  this  wild 
chase  lasted ; but  that  it  must  have  been  fearfully 


34 


PEACEFUL  SCENE. 


successful  is  proved,  not  only  by  the  oral  record  of 
the  place,  but  by  the  loose  bones  and  Indian  wea- 
pons which  are  at  this  day  continually  found  amid 
piles  of  stone  in  the  adjacent  woods ; the  Indians 
probably  returning  to  the  valley  after  the  storm  had 
passed  over,  and  heaping  their  customary  cairn  over 
the  bodies  of  their  dead  kindred. 

What  a contrast  was  the  peaceful  scene  I now 
beheld  to  that  which  the  place  witnessed  some 
seventy  years  ago  ! A train  of  huge  Pennsylvania 
wagons  were  standing  variously  drawn  up  upon  the 
very  spot  where  the  conflict  was  deadliest ; the 
smoking  teams  of  some  were  just  being  unharness- 
ed, a few  jaded  beasts  stood  lazily  drinking  from  the 
shallow  stream  that  gurgled  around  their  fetlocks  ; 
while  others,  more  animated  at  the  near  prospect  of 
food  and  rest,  jingled  the  bells  appended  to  the  col- 
lars in  unison  with  their  iron  traces,  which  clanked 
over  the  stones  as  they  stalked  off  to  the  stable.  To 
these  signs  of  quiet  and  security  were  added  those 
true  village  appearances  which  struck  me  so  plea- 
singly on  my  approach  to  M‘Connelsville.  A bux- 
om country  girl  or  two  could  be  seen  moving  through 
the  enclosures,  bearing  the  milkpail  to  meet  the 
cows  which  were  coming  in  lowing  along  the  high- 
way, while  the  shouts  and  laughter  of  a troop  of 
boys  just  let  loose  from  school  came  merrily  on  the 
ear  as  they  frolicked  on  a little  green  hard  by.  My 
companion  stood  in  the  midst  of  them,  holding  a 
piece  of  silver  in  his  fingers,  while  a dozen  little 
chaps  around  him  were  trying  who  could  win  the 
bright  guerdon  by  standing  on  one  leg  the  longest. 


THE  ALLEGHANIES. 


35 


The  ridiculous  postures  of  the  little  crew,  with  the 
not  less  ludicrous  gravity  of  my  friend,  who  was 
thus  diverting  himself,  of  course  put  an  end  to  my 
sober  musings ; but  I could  not  help,  while  advan- 
cing to  the  scene  of  the  sport,  fancying  for  a mo- 
ment the  effect  of  the  war-whoop  breaking  sudden- 
ly, as  ere  now  it  often  has,  upon  a scene  apparently 
so  safe,  sheltered,  and  happy. 

P.  S. — Somerset , Oct.  2 6th. — You  have  read  in 
the  newspapers  of  the  recent  destruction  of  thi3 
place  by  fire' : it  must  have  been  large  and  flourish- 
ing, judging  by  the  extensive  ruins  which  I have 
just  been  trying  to  trace  by  the  frosty  light  of  the 
moon  now  shining  over  them.  The  appearances  of 
desolation  here  are  really  melancholy;  the  inn 
where  we  put  up  is  the  only  one  left  standing,  out 
of  five  or  six,  and  it  is  so  crowded  with  the  house- 
less inhabitants  that  I find  it  difficult  to  get  a place 
to  write  in. 

We  are  now  in  the  bosom  of  the  Alleghanies : 
the  scenery  passed  to-day  is  beautiful,  most  beauti- 
ful. The  mountains  are  loftier,  as  well  as  more 
imposing  in  form,  than  those  which  skirt  these  wild 
regions  eastwardly;  whichever  way  the  eye  directs 
itself,  they  are  piled  upon  each  other  in  masses 
which  blend  at  last  with  the  clouds  above  them.  At 
one  point  they  lie  in  confused  heaps  together;  at 
another  they  lap  each  other  with  outlines  as  distinct 
as  if  the  crest  of  each  were  of  chiselled  stone : some, 
while  the  breeze  quivers  through  their  dense  forests, 
rear  their  dome-like  summits  boldly  near;  and 


36 


FOREST  SCENERY. 


some,  swelling  more  gradually  from  the  vales  below, 
show  in  the  blue  distance  like  waves  caught  on  the 
curl  by  some  mighty  hand,  and  arrested  ere  they 
broke  on  the  misty  region  beyond.  Then  for  their 
foliage  ! the  glorious  hues  of  autumn  are  here  dis- 
played in  all  their  fulness,  and  brilliancy,  and  power 
— volume  upon  volume,  like  the  rolling  masses  of 
sunset  clouds,  the  leafy  summits  fold  against  the 
sky — calm  at  one  moment  as  the  bow  of  peace, 
whose  tints  they  borrow ; and  at  another  flaming 
like  the  banners  of  a thousand  battles  in  the  breeze. 

But  why  should  I attempt  to  describe  what 
baffles  all  description  ? The  humblest  grove  of  our 
country  is,  at  this  season,  arrayed  in  colours  such 
as  the  Italian  masters  never  dreamed  of ; and 
woods  like  these  assume  a pomp  which  awes  the 
pencil  into  weakness.  Such  forests,  such  foliage, 
were  unknown  when  our  language  was  invented. 
Let  those  who  named  the  noble-sounding  rivers 
that  reflect  their  glories  supply  words  to  describe 
them. 


VICISSITUDE  OF  CLIMATE. 


37 


LETTER  III. 

Vicissitude  of  Climate — Snow-scene — Mountain  Views — Tra- 
velling on  Horseback — Gorgeous  Trappings — Travelling  Emi- 
grants— Dogs — Symptoms  of  an  Accident — National  Road — Town 
of  Wheeling — Noble  Prospect. 


Wheeling,  Virginia,  October  29th. 

I used  to  think  our  sea-board  climate  as  capricious 
as  it  could  well  be ; but  the  changing  skies  under 
which  we  have  travelled  for  the  last  three  days 
convince  me  that  nowhere  is  the  office  of  weather- 
cock less  of  a sinecure  than  in  the  region  through 
which  I have  just  travelled.  Yet  I do  not  complain 
of  the  weather — far  from  it ; I consider  myself 
peculiarly  fortunate  in  having,  during  a three  day’s 
ride  over  the  Alleghanies,  seen  that  fine  mountain 
district  under  every  vicissitude  of  climate  ; and 
though  the  cold  has  at  times  been  severe — the  harsh 
rains  anything  but  agreeable  for  the  time — the 
Indian  summer  heat  almost  sultry — and,  lastly,  the 
snow  most  unseasonable,  every  change  lent  some 
new  attraction  to  the  landscape.  The  still  cold 
frosty  mornings  gave  a vigour  and  boldness  of  out- 
line to  the  mountain  scenery,  that  extended  its 
limits  and  heightened  its  effect.  The  rains,  which 
an  hour  afterward  washed  the  changing  leaves, 
brightened  their  tints  for  the  noonday  sun  which 


VOL.  i — D 


I 


38  SNOW  SCENE. 

followed;  and  the  warm  mist  of  evening  imbued  the 
landscape  with  a Claude-like  mellowness  that  suited 
the  rich  repose  of  evening  among  the  hills. 

As  for  the  snow,  nothing  could  be  more  beautiful 
than  the  effect  of  it  at  this  season  in  the  woods. 
We  had  two  flurries  on  successive  days  ; each  of 
which,  after  covering  the  ground  about  an  inch  in 
depth,  was  succeeded  by  a bright  glowing  sky.  The 
appearance  the  woods  then  presented  it  would  be 
almost  impossible  to  describe  to  you.  Call  up  in 
your  mind  the  brilliant  and  animated  effect  produced 
by  a January  sun  shining  through  a leafless  grove, 
over  the  fresh  white  carpet  that  has  been  wound 
among  the  trees  during  the  preceding  night.  How 
do  the  dead  branches  smile  in  the  frosty  sunbeams ; 
how  joyously  does  every  thing  sparkle  in  the  refract- 
ed light ! Now  imagine  the  tinted  leaves  of  autumn 
blushing  over  those  rigid  limbs,  and  reflecting 
warmth  upon  the  dazzling  mantle  beneath  them 
— green,  gold,  and  purple,  scarlet,  saffron,  and 
vermillion;  the  dolphin  hues  of  our  dying  woods 
glistening  in  the  silver  shower,  and  relieved  against 
a surface  of  virgin  whiteness.  Let  the  scene  lie, 
if  you  choose,  among  mountains  clothed  with  forests 
as  far  as  the  eye  can  reach — their  billowy  forms 
now  sweeping  off  in  vast  curves  along  the  sky,  and 
now  broken  by  ravines,  through  which  a dozen 
conflicting  lights  climb  their  shaggy  sides ; or,  not 
less  striking,  let  it  be  a majestic  river,  whose  fertile 
islands,  rich  alluvial  bottoms,  and  wooded  bluffs 
beyond,  are  thus  dressed  at  once  in  Autumn’s  pomp 
and  Winter’s  robe  of  pride;  and  you  can  hardly 


TRAVELLING  ON  HORSEBACK. 


39 


conceive  a more  beautiful  combination.  Such  was 
the  aspect  under  which  I crossed  the  last  summit 
of  the  AHeghanies  yesterday,  and  such  under  which 
I viewed  the  Ohio  this  morning. 

The  fine  undulating  country  between  the  moun- 
tains and  this  place,  especially  after  passing  the 
post-town  of  Washington,  on  the- borders  of  Penn- 
sylvania, left  me  nothing  to  regret  in  the  way  of 
scenery  after  crossing  the  last  ridge  this  side  of 
Somerset.  And  yet  nothing  can  be  more  exhila- 
rating than  a gallop  over  those  heights  on  a bracing 
October  day.  The  sudden  breaks  and  turns  of  the 
mountain  road  open  new  views  upon  you  at  every 
moment ; and  the  clear,  pure  atmosphere  one 
breathes,  with  the  motion  of  a spirited  horse,  would 
“create  a soul  beneath  the  ribs  of  death,”  and  re- 
juvenate Methuselah  himself.  One  must  once  have 
been  a dyspeptic  to  estimate  to  the  full  that  feeling 
of  exulting  health.  For  my  own  part,  however 
philosophers  may  preach  up  the  sublimity  of  intel- 
lectual pleasures,  or  poets  dilate  upon  the  delights 
of  etherealizing  sentiment,  I confess  that  I hold  one 
good  burst  of  pure  animal  spirits  far  above  them  all. 
On  horseback,  especially,  when  life  quickens  in 
every  vein,  when  there  is  life  in  the  breeze  that 
plays  upon  your  cheek,  and  life  in  each  bound  of 
the  noble  creature  beneath  you ; who  that  has  felt 
his  pulses  gladden,  and  youth,  glorious  indomitable 
youth,  swelling  high  above  manhood’s  colder  tide 
in  his  bosom — who  would  give  the  rush  of  spirits, 
the  breathing  poetry  of  that  moment,  for  all  the  lays 
that  lyrist  ever  sung — for  all  the  joys  philosophy 


40 


GORGEOUS  TRAPPINGS. 


ever  proved  ? This,  I know,  must  appear  a shock- 
ing doctrine  to  “ the  march  of  mind”  people  ; but 
as  they  are  presumed  to  go  on  foot,  they  are  no 
authority  on  the  subject. — Apropos  of  pedestrians, 
though  your  true  western  man  generally  journeys 
on  horseback,  yet  one  meets  numbers  of  the  former 
on  this  side  of  the  Alleghanies.  They  generally 
have  a tow-cloth  knapsack,  or  light  leathern  valise, 
hung  across  their  backs ; and  are  often  very  decently 
dressed  in  a blue  coat,  gray  trousers,  and  round  hat. 
They  travel  about  forty  miles  a day. 

The  horsemen  almost  invariably  wear  a drab 
great  coat,  fur  cap,  and  green  cloth  leggins  ; and, 
in  addition  to  a pair  of  well  filled  saddle  bags,  very 
often  have  strapped  to  their  crupper  a convenience 
the  last  you  would  expect  to  find  in  the  wardrobe 
of  a backwoodsman — videlicet,  an  umbrella.  The 
females  of  every  rank  in  this  mountainous  country 
ride  in  short  dresses.  They  are  generally  wholly 
unattended,  and  sometimes  in  large  parties  of  their 
own  sex.  The  saddles  and  housings  of  their  horses 
are  very  gay ; and  I have  repeatedly  seen  a party 
of  four  or  five  buxom  damsels  mounted  on  sorry 
looking  beasts,  whose  rough  hides,  unconscious  of 
a currycomb,  contrasted  oddly  enough  with  saddles 
of  purple  velvet,  reposing  on  scarlet  saddle  cloths 
worked  with  orange  coloured  borders.  I have  ex- 
amined the  manufacture  of  these  gorgeous  trappings 
at  the  saddleries  in  some  of  the  towns  in  passing : 
they  much  resemble  those  which  are  prepared  in 
New-York  for  the  South  American  market,  and  are 
of  a much  cheaper  make,  and  far  less  durable,  than 


TRAVELLING  EMIGRANTS. 


41 


those  which  a plainer  taste  would  prefer.  Still  the 
effect  of  these  gay  colours,  as  you  catch  a glimpse 
of  them  afar  off  fluttering  through  the  woods,  is  by 
no  means  bad.  They  would  show  well  in  a picture, 
and  be  readily  seized  by  a painter  in  relieving  the 
shadows  of  a sombre  landscape. 

But  by  far  the  greatest  portion  of  travellers  one 
meets  with,  not  to  mention  the  ordinary  stage-coach 
passengers,  consists  of  teamsters  and  the  emigrants. 
The  former  generally  drive  six  horses  before  their 
enormous  wagons — stout,  heavy  looking  beasts,  de- 
scended, it  is  said,  from  the  famous  draught  horses 
of  Normandy.  They  go  about  twenty  miles  a day. 
The  leading  horses  are  often  ornamented  with  a 
number  of  bells  suspended  from  a square  raised 
frame-work  over  their  collars,  originally  adopted  to 
warn  these  lumbering  machines  of  each  other’s  ap- 
proach, and  prevent  their  being  brought  up,  all 
standing  in  the  narrow  parts  of  the  road. 

As  for  the  emigrants,  it  would  astonish  you  to 
witness  how  they  get  along.  A covered  one  horse 
wagon  generally  contains  the  whole  worldly  sub- 
stance of  a family  consisting  not  unfrequently  of  a 
dozen  members.  The  tolls  are  so  high  along  this 
western  turnpike,  and  horses  are  comparatively  so 
cheap  in  the  region  whither  the  emigrant  is  bound, 
that  he  rarely  provides  more  than  one  miserable 
Rosinante  to  transport  his  whole  family  to  the  far 
west.  The  strength  of  the  poor  animal  is  of  course 
half  the  time  unequal  to  the  demand  upon  it ; and 
you  will,  therefore,  unless  it  be  raining  very  hard, 
rarely  see  any  one  in  the  wagon,  except  perhaps 

d 2 


42 


DOGS . 


some  child  overtaken  by  sickness,  or  a mother 
nursing  a young  infant.  The  head  of  the  family 
walks  by  the  horse,  cheering  and  encouraging  him 
on  his  way.  The  good  woman,  when  not  engaged 
as  hinted  above,  either  trudges  along  with  her  hus- 
band, or,  leading  some  weary  little  traveller  by  the 
hand  far  behind,  endeavours  to  keep  the  rest  of  her 
charge  from  loitering  by  the  way  side.  The  old 
house-dog,  if  not  chained  beneath  the  wagon  to  pre- 
vent the  half-starved  brute  from  foraging  too  freely 
in  a friendly  country,  brings  up  the  rear.  I made 
acquaintance  with  more  than  one  of  these  faithful 
followers  in  passing,  by  throwing  him  a biscuit  as  I 
rode  by;  and  my  canine  friend,  when  we  met  at  an 
inn  occasionally  afterward,  was  sure  to  cultivate  the 
intimacy.  Sometimes  these  invaluable  companions 
give  out  on  the  road,  and  in  their  broken  down  con- 
dition are  sold  for  a trifle  by  their  masters.  I saw 
several  fine  setters  which  I had  reason  to  suspect 
came  into  the  country  in  this  way;  and  the  owner 
of  a superb  brindled  grayhound,  which  I met  among 
the  mountains,  told  me  that  he  had  bought  him  from 
an  English  emigrant  for  a dollar.  He  used  the  ani- 
mal with  great  success  upon  deer,  and  had  already 
been  offered  fifty  dollars  for  him. 

The  hardships  of  such  a tour  must  form  no  bad 
preparatory  school  for  the  arduous  life  which  the 
new  settler  has  afterward  to  enter  upon.  Their 
horses,  of  course,  frequently  give  out  on  the  road ; 
and,  in  companies  so  numerous,  sickness  must  fre- 
quently overtake  some  of  the  members.  Nor  should 
I wonder  at  serious  accidents  often  occurring  with 


SYMPTOMS  OF  AN  ACCIDENT, 


43 


those  crank  conveyances  among  the  precipices  and 
ravines  of  the  mountains.  At  one  place  J saw  a 
horse,  but  recently  dead,  lying  beneath  a steep, 
along  the  top  of  which  the  road  led ; and  a little 
farther  in  advance,  I picked  up  a pocket-book  with 
some  loose  leaves  floating  near  the  edge  of  the 
precipice.  It  recalled  the  story  of  Cardenio  in  Don 
Quixotte,  with  the  dead  mule  and  the  rifled  port- 
manteau lying  a few  yards  apart,  among  the  rocks 
of  the  Sierra  Morena;  and  we  almost  expected  to 
see  the  grotesque  figure  which  so  excited  the  noble 
emulation  of  the  worthy  knight,  leaping  from  rock 
to  rock,  in  the  same  guise  that  the  admirable  pencil 
of- Cervantes  has  assigned  to  him.  The  apparition 
did  not  show  itself,  however;  and  we  left  the  pocket- 
book  at  the  nearest  inn,  to  be  disposed  of  according 
to  the  claimants  that  might  appear.  These  moun- 
tains, though  occasionally  thus  cut  up  by  precipi- 
tous glens,  are  still  by  no  means  rocky — as  would 
appear  from  the  fact  of  the  inhabitants  hunting  deer 
on  horseback  through  woods  which  would  be  almost 
impervious  to  a pair  of  city-bred  legs.  The  modus 
operandi  is  very  simple.  The  hunters  collect  in  a 
troop — drive  the  deer  in  a circle — and  then  shoot 
them  from  the  saddle.  ' You  may  remember  some- 
thing of  the  same  kind  described  in  Waverley.  The 
soil  must  in  general  be  indifferent,  according  to 
what  was  told  us  by  the  keeper  of  a turnpike  gate, 
who  claimed  to  be  the  father  of  twenty-seven  chil- 
dren! I asked  this  worthy  paterfamilias  if  the 
country  was  healthy.  “ Healthy,  sir  !”  he  replied, 
“ that  it  is — healthy  and  poor : ten  people  run  away 


44 


NATIONAL  ROAD, 


< 

where  one  dies  in  it.”  The  soil  improves  much 
after  leaving  the  mountains  ; and  we  crossed  some 
rich  bottom  lands  when  fording  the  Youghioghany 
and  Monongahela  rivers — the  former  a branch  of  the 
latter,  and  both  fine  pebbly  streams,  navigable  at 
certain  seasons  of  the  year. 

About  thirty  miles  from  Wheeling  we  first  struck 
the  national  road.  It  appears  to  have  been  origi- 
nally constructed  of  large  round  stones,  thrown  with- 
out much  arrangement  on  the  surface  of  the  soil, 
after  the  road  was  first  levelled.  These  are  now 
being  ploughed  up,  and  a thin  layer  of  broken  stones 
is  in  many  places  spread  over  the  renovated  surface. 
I hope  the  road-makers  have  not  the  conscience  to 
call  this  Macadamizing:  it  yields  like  snow-drift  to 
the  heavy  wheels  which  traverse  it.  Two-thirds, 
indeed,  of  the  extent  we  traversed  were  worse  than 
any  artificial  road  I ever  travelled,  except  perhaps 
the  log  causeways  among  the  new  settlements  in 
northern  New- York.  The  ruts  are  worn  so  broad 
and  deep  by  heavy  travel,  that  an  army  of  pigmies 
might  march  into  the  bosom  of  the  country  under 
the  cover  they  would  afford ; and  old  Ixion  himself 
could  hardly  trundle  his  wheel  over  such  awful  fur- 
rows. Perhaps  I was  the  more  struck  with  the 
appearance  of  this  celebrated  highway,  from  the 
fact  of  much  of  the  road  over  the  mountains  having 
been  in  excellent  condition.  There  is  one  feature, 
however,  in  this  national  work  which  is  truly  fine — 
I allude  to  the  massive  stone  bridges  which  form  a 
part  of  it.  They  occur,  as  the  road  crosses  a wind- 
ing creek,  a dozen  times  within  twice  as  many 


TOWN  OF  WHEELING, 


45 


miles.  They  consist  either  of  one,  two,  or  three 
arches ; the  centre  arch  being  sprung  a foot  or  two 
higher  than  those  on  either  side.  Their  thick  walls 
projecting  above  the  road,  their  round  stone  but- 
tresses and  carved  key-stones,  combine  to  give  them 
an  air  of  Roman  solidity  and  strength.  They  are 
monuments  of  taste  and  power  that  will  speak  well 
for  the  country  when  the  brick  towns  they  bind  to- 
gether shall  have  crumbled  in  the  dust. 

These  frequently  recurring  bridges  are  striking 
objects  in  the  landscape,  where  the  road  winds  for 
many  miles  through  a narrow  valley.  They  may- 
be seen  at  almost  every  turn  spanning  the  deep  bo- 
som of  the  defile,  and  reflected  with  all  their  sombre 
beauty  in  the  stream  below. 

The  valley  widens  within  a few  miles  of  Wheel- 
ing, and  the  road  strikes  into  the  hill  side,  whose 
crooked  base  it  has  long  been  following.  It  soon 
begins  to  be  cut  out  of  the  solid  rock,  and  the  ascent 
is  rapidly  accellerated.  Above,  on  the  right,  the 
trees  impend  from  a lofty  hill  over  your  path;  and 
far  below  you  see  the  stream,  so  long  your  com- 
panion, gleaming  through  a small  cultivated  bottom, 
which  shows  like  a garden  to  the  eye.  It  is  girdled 
by  steep  hills,  and  seems,  with  its  single  mill  and 
one  or  two  farm  houses,  to  be  shut  out  from  all  the 
world.  Advance  but  a pistol-shot,  and  you  look 
into  the  chimneys  of  Wheeling.  The  Ohio  is  be- 
neath your  feet.  The  town  lies  in  so  narrow  a strip 
along  the  river,  that,  from  the  ridge  on  which  you 
stand,  you  will  hardly  notice  its  crowded  build- 
ings— that  first  view  of  the  lovely  river  of  the  west 


46 


NOBLE  PROSPECT, 


is  worth  a journey  of  a thousand  miles.  The  clear 
majestic  tide,  the  fertile  islands  on  its  bosom,  the 
bold  and  towering  heights  opposite,  with  the  green 
esplanade  of  alluvion  in  front,  and  the  forest-crowned 
headlands  above  and  below,  round  which  the  river 
sweeps  away  to  bless  and  gladden  the  fruitful  re- 
gions that  drink  its  limpid  waters,  present  a splendid 
combination  of  natural  beauties : while  the  recollec- 
tion of  the  wild  border  history  of  this  once  frontier 
stream  ; of  the  daiing  exploits  and  savage  encoun- 
ters upon  its  banks  ; of  the  painted  warriors  that 
once  lurked  within  its  woods,  or  skimmed  in  light 
canoes  where  now  the  sluggish  ark  of  commerce 
floats  on  its  peaceful  course — these  throw  a moral 
yet  romantic  charm  over  the  scene,  and  stamp  it  in 
magic  colours  upon  the  memory  : — no  man  will  ever 
forget  his  first  view  of  the  Ohio. 

I descended  with  regret  from  the  elevation  which 
afforded  this  noble  prospect,  and  plunging  into  the 
smoky  town  below,  am  now  comfoitably  quartered 
in  the  best  tavern  in  the  place.  I shall  remain 
here  only  till  a steamboat  comes  along,  and  will 
write  to  you  next  from  Pittsburg. 


WESTERN  SOCIETY”. 


47 


LETTER  IV. 

• >>  * . X 

Western  Society — Wheeling — An  old  Negro — A Travelling 
Companion — Shores  of  the  Ohio — Scenery  of  the  Ohio — Rapp’s 
Settlement — Approach  to  Pittsburg — The  Monongahela— Our 
Landing. 

Pittsburg,  November  3d. 

I passed  an  evening  most  agreeably  at  Wheeling 
with  two  or  three  prominent  members  of  the  Bar, 
who  were  distinguished  by  that  courtesy  and  cor- 
dial frankness  which  mark  the  western  Virginian. 
A venison  steak  and  flask  of  old  Tuscaloosa— the 
relish  and  flavour  of  which  would  have  been  a 
tocsin  to  the  soul  of  Apicius,  and  made  Anacreon 
uneasy  in  his  grave — gave  cordiality  to  the  meet- 
ing. It  was  my  first  introduction  into  western 
society  ; and  I could  hardly  have  been  initiated  under 
better  auspices,  as  I went  under  the  wing  of  an 
Ohio  gentleman,  whose  warm  hospitality  and  en- 
dearing social  qualities,  united  as  they  are  to  dis- 
tinguished professional  talents,  seem  to  make  him 
a universal  favourite  in  this  region.  The  conver- 
sation, animated,  various,  and  instructive,  would 
supply  material  for  a dozen  letters  : but  the  nervous 
expressions,  and  almost  startling  boldness,  of  west- 
ern phraseology  would  lose  half  their  vividness  and 
power  when  transferred  to  paper.  I found  myself, 


48 


WHEELING. 


however,  catching  occasionally  something  of  the 
characteristic  tone  of  those  around  me  ; and  my 
new  friends  gave  so  encouraging  a reception  to  each 
fresh  fledged  sally,  that  I live  in  the  humble  hope 
of  being  able  to  express  myself  with  sufficient  pro- 
priety by  the  time  I reach  the  really  outer  west,  to 
prevent  people  from  detecting  at  once  the  early  dis- 
advantages I have  laboured  under  in  living  so  long 
in  a land  where  every  lip  lisps  homage  to  mincing 
Walker,  and  each  tongue  trembles  in  terrorem  of 
terrible  Johnson.  In  that  event,  I may  have  both 
scenes  and  characters  to  describe  when  we  meet, 
such  as  would  now  split  my  pen  in  telling. 

Wheeling  is  one  of  the  most  flourishing  places 
on  the  Ohio.  The  immense  quantity  of  bituminous 
coal  in  the  adjacent  region,  which  may  be  had 
merely  for  the  digging,  gives  it  great  advantages  as 
a manufacturing  place ; while  the  rich  back  coun- 
try, and  favourable  position  on  the  river,  especially 
in  low  water*  when  steam-boats  find  Pittsburg  diffi- 
cult of  access,  make  the  town  a place  of  active 
trade.  It  lies  in  two  parallel  streets,  beneath  a hill 
extending  along  the  river,  and  its  smoky  purlieus, 
when  viewed  from  within,  except  to  the  eye  of  the 
man  of  business,  are  anything  but  attractive.  The 
principal  inn  of  the  place,  wherein  I lodged,  is  well 
supplied  with  bedchambers  and  parlours,  and  a 
comfortable  reading  room,  where  the  leading  papers 
in  the  Union  are  taken.  The  attendance  too,  all 
the  servants  being  blacks,  is  very  good  : among 
them,  a perfect  treasure,  in  the  shape  of  a genuine 
old  Virginian  negro,  must  not  be  forgotten.  The 


AN  OLD  NEGRO. 


49 


features  of  Billy  (for  that  is  the  name  of  my  sable 
friend)  are  an  exact  copy  of  those  generally  intro- 
duced into  Washington’s  picture  when  he  is  painted 
with  his  favourite  groom  in  attendance.  I piqued 
myself  considerably  upon  having  discovered  the 
likeness,  when  I afterward  found  that  the  worthy 
Ethiop  had  actually  been  “ raised,”  as  he  expressed 
it,  in  the  Washington  family.  He  is  a professing 
member  of  the  Baptist  church  ; and  I was  much 
interested,  while  talking  with  the  newly  converted 
heathen  (for  such  he  called  himself  prior  to  the 
“ change,”)  to  find  how  the  precepts  with  which  he 
had  lately  become  indoctrinated  assorted  with  the 
ideas  he  had  been  brought  up  in  as  a slave : religion 
seemed  only  to  have  strengthened  the  bonds  which 
held  him  to  his  master.  “ This  new  light,”  he 
said,  “ showxd  the  old  nigger” — I give  his  exact 
words — “that  to  whatever  station  God  pleased  to 
call  him,  there  it  was  good  for  the  old  nigger  to  be.” 
I was  told  that  he  was  rigidly  attentive  to  his 
spiritual  duties  ; and  as  for  his  worldly  ones,  I 
never  met  with  a more  thorough  bred  and  respect- 
ful servant.  He  is  among  the  last  of  a race  once 
numerqus  in  the  Old  Dominion,  but  now  fading 
from  the  face  of  the  earth. 

It  was  with  no  slight  regret  that  I parted  with 
my  friend  S.,  when  stepping  on  board  a pretty 
steamboat,  called  the  Gazelle,  to  take  my  passage 
up  the  river  ; his  foreign  travel,  and  various  oppor- 
tunities, have  given  him  habits  of  observation, 
which,  with  a dash  of  humour  and  ready  flow  of 
fine  spirits,  constitute  a capital  travelling  compa- 

VOL.  I. — E 


50 


SHORES  OF  THE  OHIO. 


nion.  His  literary  tastes  are  well  known  to  you  ; 
and  I should  not  be  surprised  if,  at  a future  day,  he 
should  distinguish  himself,  as  another  member  of 
his  family  has  so  happily  done,  by  committing  to 
the  press  a few  notes  of  his  wanderings.*  I loft 
him  waiting  for  the  downward  boat,  and  we  parted, 
promising  to  meet  again  in  a few  months  at  New- 
Orleans ; each  of  us  in  the  meantime  traversing 
regions  from  which  the  kingdoms  and  principalities 
of  Europe  might  be  carved  out  and  never  missed. 

The  snow  of  yesterday  yet  covered  the  ground 
as  we  rubbed  along  the  shores  of  the  Ohio ; and 
those  pictured  woods,  with  the  morning  sun  gleam- 
ing through  their  tall  stems,  and  glistening  on  the 
powdered  tree-tops,  were  indescribably  beautiful. 
The  islets,  particularly  where  the  hues  of  the  foli- 
age were  most  vivid,  shone  like  shields  of  silver 
blazoned  with  no  mortal  heraldry.  Before  noon, 
however,  the  sun  absorbed  every  particle  of  earth’s 
fragile  covering  : the  warm  mist. of  Indian  summer 
succeeded ; the  river  became  like  glass ; every 
island  floated  double  upon  its  ,bosom,  and  each 
headland  seemed  to  drop  its  cliffs  against  a nether 
sky.  The  harsh  panting  of  our  high  pressure 
engine,  or  the  sudden  flapping  of  a duck’s  wing,  as 
he  rose  abruptly  from  under  the  bow  of  the  boatj 
were  the  only  sounds  abroad.  The  day,  so  still,  so 
soft  and  summery,  seemed  like  the  sabbath  of  the 
dying  year. 

* This  expectation  has  not  been  defeated,  as  c:  Notes  on  Spain,  by 
a Citizen  of  Louisiana,”  are  among  the  new  publications  announced 
n England, 


SHORES  OF  THE  OHIO. 


51 


The  evening  came  on  calm  and  mellow ; and  the 
broad  disc  of  the  moon  slept  as  quietly  on  the  fair 
bosom  of  the  Ohio,  as  if  her  slumbers  there  had 
never  been  broken  by  the  war-whoop  or  reveille, 
from  the  shadowy  banks  around. 

Having  always  been  a faithful  seeker  after  border 
legends  and  traditions  of  the  old  Indian  wars,  I 
could  not  help  calling  to  mind  a few  of  those  with 
which  my  memory  was  stored,  and  endeavouring  to 
lay  their  proper  venue  in  the  scenes  around  me. 
Unfortunately,  however,  there  was  no  one  aboard  of 
the  boat  who  could  enlighten  me  in  this  respect ; 
and  though  particularty  anxious  to  see  the  spot 
where  the  doughty  Adam  Poe,  like  another  Jack  the 
Giant-killer,  vanquished  a Wyandot  large  enough 
to  swallow  him  at  a mouthful,  I could  only,  by 
asking  the  distances  from  time  to  time  along  the 
river,  guess  at  the  point,  among  others  similarly 
•associated  with  romantic  adventure.* 

The  peculiar  scenery  of  the  Ohio  has  been  so 
graphically  described  by  Flint  and  Hall  in  their  va- 
rious writings  upon  the  West,  that  I will  not  detain 
you  by  dwelling  minutely  upon  its  features.  The 
prominent  characteristics  of  the  river  are,  a clear 
winding  current,  studded  with  alluvial  islands,  and 
flowing  between  banks,  which  now  lie  in  a level 
esplanade  of  several  hundred  acres,  elevated  per- 
haps fifty  feet  above  the  water,  and  again  swell 
boldly  from  the  margin  to  the  height  of  three  or 
four  hundred  feet  in  headlands,  which3  when  the 

\ 


* See  note  A. 


52 


RAPp’s  SETTLEMENT. 


mists  of  evening  settle  upon  the  landscape,  wear  the 
appearance  of  distant  mountains ; when  I add  that 
an  occasional  farm  house,  with  its  luxuriant  orchards 
and  other  enclosures,  maybe  found  along  the  small- 
er “ bottoms,”  while  the  larger  ones  are  frequently 
enlivened  by  a bustling  village  reposing  in  their 
ample  bosoms,  you  have  the  main  features  of  the 
Ohio  as  I have  seen  it  between  Wheeling  and  Pitts- 
burg. The  windings  of  the  river  present  at  every 
turn  some  of  the  most  beautiful  views  in  the  world; 
but  the  regular  alternations  of  “ bluff”  and  “bottom” 
give  such  a sameness  to  the  landscape,  that  unless 
familiar  with  the  points  of  the  country  around,  one 
might  be  dropped  in  a dozen  different  places  along 
the  river,  and  not  be  aware  of  a change  in  his  situa- 
tion. Nature  seems  to  have  delighted  in  repeating 
again  and  again  the  same  lovely  forms  which  she 
first  moulded  in  this  favourite  region. 

We  passed  Rapp’s  flourishing  settlement,  called* 
Economy,  during  the  day,  but  only  near  enough  to 
see  the  regular  arrangement  of  the  square  brick 
dwellings,  standing  about  twenty  feet  apart,  on 
broad  streets  which  intersect  each  other  at  right  an- 
gles ; the  factories  with  their  high  cupolas.;  and 
the  thriving  orchards  and  young  vineyards,  which 
stretch  along  the  banks  of  the  rivet  beyond  the 
suburbs.  I may  hereafter,  if  I have  time  to  visit  it, 
give  you  some  account  of  the  present  condition  of 
this  settlement,  wdiioh  belongs  to  a society  orga- 
nized, I believe,  partially  upon  Mr.  Owen’s  plan. 
The  site  of  the  town  was  formerly  a favourite  rally- 
ing-point  for  the  Delaware  Indians  under  their  chief 


APPROACH  TO  PITTSBURG. 


53 


Monahatoocha,  whose  council-fires  once  blazed 
where  now  the  smoke  of  a dozen  factories  rolls  from 
the  chimneys  of  the  German  emigrant.  What  a 
contrast  between  the  toilsome  race,  whose  clanking 
machinery  is  now  the  only  sound  that  greets  the 
ear  as  you  near  the  shore,  and  the  indolent  savage, 
or  laughter-loving  Frenchman,  who  once  stalked 
along  the  borders,  or  danced  over  the  bosom  of  the 
beautiful  river ! 

• 

“ How  changed  the  scene  since  merry  Jean  Baptiste 
Paddled  his  pirogue  on  La  Belle  Riviere, 

And  from  its  banks  some  lone  Loyola  priest 
Echoed  the  night-song  of  the  voyageur.” 

The  afternoon  sun  shone  warmly  on  the  eastern 
bank  of  the  river,  where  the  increasing  number  of 
farm  houses,  and  occasionally  a handsome  seat 
tastefully  planted  among  them,  with  its  hanging 
garden,  not  unfrequently  kissed  by  the  current  of 
the  river,  indicated  our  approach  to  the  City  of 
Pittsburg, — the  eastern  head  of  the  Mississippi  val- 
ley, and  the  key  to  the  broad  region  bathed  by  its 
waters.  Our  course  lay  for  a few  moments  among 
islands  that  seemed  to  bloom  in  never-dying  ver- 
dure ; and  then,  as  we  escaped  from  their  green 
cincture,  the  tall  cliffs  of  the  Monongahela,  black- 
ened by  the  numerous  furnaces  that  smoke  along 
their  base,  and  pierced  in  various  points  with  the 
deep  coal-shafts  that  feed  their  fires,  frowned  over 
the  placid  water.  It  was  just  sunset ; and  the  tri- 
angular city,  with  its  steeples  peering  through  a 
cloud  of  dense  smoke,  and  its  two  rivers,  spanned 

e 2 


54 


OUR  LANDING. 


each  by  a noble  bridge,  that  seem  when  thus  viewed 
a reflection  of  each  other,  lay  before  us.  On  the 
right,  the  calm  and  full  tide  of  the  Monongahela, 
flowing  beneath  rocky  banks,  some  three  hundred 
feet  in  elevation,  was  shaded  by  the  impending 
height,  and  reflected  the  blaze  of  a dozen  furnaces 
in  its  sable  bosom.  On  the  left,  the  golden  tints  of 
sunset  still  played  over  the  clear  pebbly  wave  of 
the  Alleghany,  and  freshened  the  white  outline  of 
a long,  low-built  nunnery,  standing  on  a sudden  ele- 
vation back  from  the  river.  The  dusty  city  lay  in 
the  midst,  the  bridges  springing  from  its  centre  ter- 
minating the  view  up  both  rivers ; while  the  mists 
of  evening  were  rapidly  closing  in  upon  the  undu- 
lating country  that  formed  the  back  ground  of  the 
picture. 

Truly,  the  waters  have  here  chosen  a lovely  spot 
for  their  meeting ; and  it  was  but  natural  that  such 
a stream  as  the  Ohio  should  spring  from  such  a 
union.  Looking  backward  now,  I could  see  that 
river,  like  a young  giant  rejoicing  in  its  birth,  sweep- 
ing suddenly  on  its  course,  but  turning  every  mo- 
ment among  its  green  islands,  as  if  to  look  back  till 
the  last  upon  the  home  of  its  infancy. 

We  entered  the  Monongahela,  and  disembarked 
a few  hundred  yards  from  the  site  of  the  old  Fort 
du  Quesne.  The  river  was  some  twenty-five  feet 
lower  than  usual;  and  giving  my  baggage  to  a dray- 
man in  attendance,  I ascended  the  bank,  and  soon 
found  my  way  through  streets,  which,  though  nei- 
ther broad  nor  cheerful-looking,  are  still  well  built, 
to  the  Exchange  Hotel  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 


AN  EXCURSION. 


55 


town.  Here  I am  now  housed  ; and,  after  deliver- 
ing my  letters,  and  looking  farther  about  the  place, 
you  shall  have  the  result  of  my  observations. 


LETTER  V, 

An  Excursion — Field  of  Action — An  Ambuscade — The  Battle 
— Fall  of  Braddock — Character  of  Braddock — Speech  of  an  Indian 
Chief — The  Battle-field — Relic  hunters — Steam  engines. 

Pittsburg,  Nov.  lOih. 

• It  was  a bright,  bracing  autumnal  morning,  as 
I rode  out  of  Pittsburg  with  a party  of  gentlemen 
for  Braddock’s  Field.  Our  route  followed  the  course 
of  the  river ; sometimes  keeping  the  rich  bottom  on 
its  borders,  sometimes  ascending  a hilly  ridge.  The 
height  commanded  a wide  view  of  the  river,  now 
winding  between  steep  hills  whose  shadows  met  as 
they  slept  upon  its  quiet  bosom,  now  expanding  into 
a small  lake  so  completely  land-locked  that  it  seem- 
ed to  have  no  connexion  with  the  bright  stream  seen 
flashing  through  the  meadows  farther  on.  After 
catching  more  than  one  glimpse  like  this  of  the 
landscape  behind  us,  whose  sunny  fields  contrasted 
beautifully  with  the  dense  smoke  of  Pittsburg  in  the 
back  ground,  we  struck  into  a ravine  cutting  the 
road  hitherto  pursued  at  right  angles.  Winding 
now  through  a deep  dingle,  where  the  path-side  was 
festooned  with  vines,  we  crossed  a small  brook,  and 


56 


FIELD  OF  ACTION. 


reached  the  shore  of  the  Monongahela  opposite  to 
a broad  alluvial  fiat,  whose  high  cultivation  and 
sunny  aspect  contrasted  vividly  with  the  wild  and 
secluded  dell  from  the  mouth  of  which  we  beheld  it. 
The  road  next  led  for  some  distance  through  a 
wood  on  the  immediate  bank  of  the  river ; and  then 
gaining  the  more  public  highway,  we  found  our- 
selves, after  passing  several  comfortable  farm 
houses,  immediately  in  front  of  the  battle  ground. 

It  is  cut  up  now  by  three  or  four  enclosures, — 
the  field  upon  which  the  fight  was  hottest  lying 
nearly  in  the  centre,  bounded  on  one  side  by  the 
road,  and  having  its  opposite  extremity  about  a 
quarter  of  a mile  from  the  river,  with  a wooded  flat 
intervening.  Beyond  this  flat  is  the  ford  over 
which  Braddock  passed.  The  ground,  about  two 
hundred  yards  from  the  ford,  rises  in  a gradual  slope 
for  some  two  hundred  yards  more,  and  then  swells 
suddenly  into  a tolerably  steep  hill,  the  summit  of 
which  may  be  half  a mile  from  the  river.  On  the* 
middle  slope  lies  the  central  field  of  action,  to  which 
I have  already  alluded.  It  is  seamed  with  two 
shallow  ravines,  or  gullies,*  which  run  parallel  with 
each  other  towards  the  river,  and  are  about  gunshot 
apart. 

In  these  ravines,  concealed  by  the  underwood, 
and  protected  by  the  trunks  of  trees  felled  for  the 
purpose,  lay  the  French  and  Indian  force.  It 
amounted,  according  to  the  best  accounts,  to  only 

* These  gullies,  from  having  been  long  subjected  to  the  action  of 
the  plough,  are  now  but  little  more  than  mere  ditches,  three  or  four 
yards  in  breadth,  and  as  many  feet  in  depth. 


AN  AMBUSCADE. 


57 


live  hundred  men  ;*  and  was  commanded  by  a sub- 
altern officer,  who  suggested  this  ambuscade  as  a 
desperate  expedient  to  save  Fort  du  Quesne  from 
the  overwhelming  force  that  was  about  to  invest  it. 
The  road  of  Braddock  lay  immediately  between 
these  enfilading  parties. 

It  was  about  mid-day  when  he  passed  his  troops 
over  the  river  in  detachments  of  two  hundred,  and 
five  hundred,  followed  by  the  column  of  artillery, 
the  baggage,  and  the  main  body  of  the  army,  com- 
manded by  himself  in  person.  The  latter  had 
hardly  time  to  form  upon  the  flat  below,  when  a 
quick  fire  in  front  told  them  that  the  two  detach- 
ments which  had  gained  the  first  slope  were  already 
engaged.  They  advanced  in  double  quick  step  to 
sustain  them  ; but  the  whole  seven  hundred  gave 
way,  and,  falling  back  upun  the  advancing  troops, 
struck  panic  and  dismay  throughout  the  ranks  in  a 
moment.  The  confusion  seemed  for  a while 
irremediable.  Some  fired  off  their  ammunition 
without  aim  or  object;  and  others,  deaf  to  the  com- 
mands and  exhortations  of  their  officers,  flung  away 
their  arms,  and  gave  themselves  up  to  despair. 

Burning  with  the  disgrace,  and  eager  to  shame 
their  soldiers  into  better  conduct,  the  British  officers 
advanced  singly  and  in  squads  among  the  bullets  of 
the  enemy.  They  were  slaughtered  indeed  like 
sheep  ; but  their  men,  whose  retreat  had  been  par- 
tially cut  off  by  the  river,  rallied  at  the  gallant 
sight.  The  cool  determination  of  young  Washing- 


* See  note  B. 


58 


THE  BATTLE. 


ton,  who  had  already  had  two  horses  shot  under 
him,  and  his  clothes  pierced  with  bullets,  imparted 
some  steadiness  to  their  feelings,  and  they  seemed 
ready  to  protract  the  fight  to  the  best  advantage. 
The  madness  of  Braddock,  however,  whose  weak 
mind  took  fire  at  the  idea  of  receiving  a lesson  from 
a provincial  youth  of  three-and-twenty,  destroyed 
every  remaining  chance  of  success.  He  insisted 
upon  his  men  forming  on  the  spot,  and  advancing  in 
regular  platoon  against  an  enemy  which  none  of 
them  could  see.  Line  after  line,  they  would  hardly 
attain  a pace  between  the  fatal  ravines  before  they 
would  be  mowed  down  like  grass.  But  their  cou- 
rage was  now  up ; and  though  broken,  and  in  some 
disorder,  they  attempted  with  courageous  perti- 
nacity to  secure  each  step  they  gained,  by  protecting 
themselves  behind  the  trees,  and  returning  the  mur- 
derous fire  of  the  foe  after  his  own  fashion.  The 
military  coxcomb  who  commanded  this  ill-fated 
band  would  not  hear  of  this.  He  stamped,  raved, 
and  swore  ; called  his  men  cowards,  and  struck 
them  with  his  sword.  In  the  mean  time,  an  evolu- 
tion was  being  executed  in  another  part  of  the  field, 
which  might  yet  have  turned  the  fate  of  the  day. 
Capt.  Waggoner,  of  the  Virginia  forces,  pushed  his 
fine  corps,  consisting  of  eighty  men,  beyond  the 
voice  of  his  besotted  commander,  to  the  summit  of 
the  hill,  with  the  loss  of  only  three  men  in  running 
the  fearful  gauntlet  to  attain  that  position.  A fallen 
tree  here  protected  his  brave  little  force,  and  enabled 
him  to  rake  the  ravines,  which  lay  at  right  angles  to 
his  natural  breastwork,  to  great  advantage.  But 


FALL  OF  BRADDOCK. 


59 


the  Virginians  were  mistaken  by  their  English 
friends  below  for  a new  enemy,  and  fired  upon  so 
furiously,  that  they  were  compelled  to  retreat  from 
their  position  with  the  loss  of  two-thirds  of  the 
corps  killed  by  their  misguided  comrades.  Thus 
was  the  strife  protracted  for  nearly  three  hours ; 
when  the  fall  of  Braddock,  after  losing  seven  hun- 
dred men  and  forty  officers,  put  an  end  to  the  blind 
conflict.  Fifteen  hundred  men,  being  thrice  the 
number  of  the  enemy,  escaped  to  tell  the  havoc  of 
the  day,  and  spread  consternation  and  horror 
throughout  the  province. 

The  military  chest  of  the  British,  containing 
£25,000  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy ; as  did 
likewise  an  entensive  train  of  artillery,  with  ammu- 
nition and  provisions  to  a large  amount.  Among 
those  who  perished  on  this  disastrous  occasion 
were,  Sir  William  Shirley,  a son  of  the  Governor  of 
New  Work,  and  Sir  Peter  Halket,  with  one  of  his 
sons,  and  other  officers  of  distinction  or  promise. 
Sir  John  St.  Clair  and  Lieut.  Colonel  Gage,  after- 
ward well  known  in  our  revolutionary  history,  were 
among  the  wounded.  Many  of  the  officers  fell  at 
the  first  onset ; but  Braddock  himself  had  advanced 
some  distance  up  the  hill  when  he  received  the 
mortal  wound,  of  which  he  died  a day  or  two  after- 
ward. The  stump  of  the  tree  against  which  he  lean- 
ed after  being  struck  is  still  pointed  out  in  a wheat 
field  above  the  highway.  He  was  carried  off  by 
the  flying  troops,  and  dying  with  many  others  on 
the  march,  was  buried  beneath  the  road  over  which 
his  men  were  retreating. 


60 


CHARACTER  OF  BRADDOCK. 


The  letters  of  Horace  Walpole,  recently  publish- 
ed, have  thrown  a light  upon  Braddock’s  character 
that  should  put  an  end  at  once  to  all  the  forbearance 
hitherto  exercised  in  commenting  upon  his  share  in 
this  bloody  transaction.  The  misfortunes  of  the  hot 
and  misguided,  but  high-bred  and  gallant  soldier, 
were  to  be  touched  upon  with  lenity : the  selfish 
rashness  and  utter  destitution  of  military  capacity 
of  the  broken-down  gambler  should  be  stigmatized 
as  they  deserve.  Yet  it  is  not  from  Walpole  alone 
that  we  learn  what  a presumptuous  blockhead  Eng- 
land sent  hither  to  mend  his  ruined  fortunes  at  the 
risk  of  the  best  blood  in  the  country;  for,  though 
history  has  dealt  so  leniently  with  his  character,  the 
records  of  those  times  paint  the  man  in  his  true 
colours ; and  so  gross  was  his  ignorance,  and  so 
offensive  his  pride,  that  he  seems  to  have  been  ha- 
ted and  despised  from  the  moment  he  assumed  the 
command  of  the  forces  destined  hither.  The  inte- 
rest with  which  I viewed  the  battle  ground  has  kept 
me  all  the  morning  looking  over  a mass  of  docu- 
ments relating  to  those  times,  and,  as  they  are  still 
before  me,  I am  tempted  to  make  more  than  one  ex- 
tract. “We  have  a general,”  writes  the  brave  and 
accomplished  Sir  William  Shirley,  from  the  camp  at 
Cumberland,  to  his  friend  Governor  Morris,  at  Phil- 
adelphia— “We  have  a general  most  judiciously 
chosen  for  being  disqualified  for  the  service  he  is 
employed  in,  in  almost  every  respect.  I am  greatly 
disgusted  at  seeing  an  expedition  (as  it  is  called)  so 
ill-concerted  originally  in  England,. so  ill-appointed 
and  so  improperly  conducted  since  in  America.  I 


SPEECH  OF  AN  INDIAN  CHIEF. 


61 


shall  be  very  happy  to  have  to  retract  hereafter  what 
I have  said,  and  submit  to  be  censured  as  moody 
and  apprehensive.  I hope,  my  dear  Morris,  to 
spend  a tolerable  winter  with  you  at  Philadelphia.” 
Poor  Shirley,  he  never  saw  that  winter.  He  was 
shot  through  the  brain  at  the  very  commencement 
of  the  battle. 

There  is  a lively  comment  on  this  letter  in  the 
well-known  reply  of  Braddock  to  the  prudent  sug- 
gestions of  Washington,  previous  to  the  battle, 
when  he  urged  his  commanding  officer  to  push  an 
advanced  guard  into  the  wood  before  his  main  body : 
— “ By  G — d,  sir,  these  are  high  times,  when  a 
British  general  is  to  take  counsel  from  a Virginia 
buckskin !” 

The  speech  of  an  Indian  chief  before  the  council 
of  Pennsylvania,  preserved  among  the  state  records 
at  Harrisburg,  offers  an  illustration  still  more  stri- 
king. “ Brothers,”  said  the  sagacious  ally  of  the 
colonists,  “ it  is  well  known  to  you  how  unhappily 
we  have  been  defeated  by  the  French  on  Mononga- 
hela : we  must  let  you  know  that  it  was  all  of  the 
pride  and  ignorance  of  that  great  general  that  came 
from  England.  He  is  now  dead ; but  he  was  a bad 
man  when  he  was  alive.  He  looked  upon  us  as 
dogs,  and  would  never  hear  anything  that  was  said 
to  him.  We  often  endeavoured  to  advise  him,  and 
to  tell  him  of  the  danger  he  was  in  with  his  soldiers ; 
but  he  never  appeared  pleased  with  us,  and  that  was 
the  reason  that  a great  many  of  our  warriors  left 
him,  and  would  not  be  under  his  command.  Bro- 
thers, we  advise  you  not  to  give  up  the  point,  though 

VOL.  i — F 


62 


THE  BATTLE  FIELD. 


we  have  in  a measure  been  chastised  from  above. 
But  let  us  unite  our  strength.  You  are  very  nume- 
rous, and  all  the  governors  along  your  eastern 
shores  can  raise  men  enough.  Don’t  let  those  that 
come  over  the  great  seas  be  concerned  any  more. 
They  are  unfit  to  fight  in  the  woods.  Let  us  go  by 
ourselves — we  that  come  out  of  this  ground.  We 
maybe  assured  to  conquer  the  French.”  The  mili- 
tary counsel  and  support  of  this  intrepid  and  high- 
souled  chieftain  would  have  been  heard  at  least, 
even  if  it  did  not  prevail,  in  the  camp  of  Napoleon. 
Does  it  not  make  you  indignant  to  think  how  it  was 
trampled  upon  and  insulted  by  such  a creature  as 
Braddock  ? One  would  have  thought  that  the  inso- 
lent spirit  of  the  London  debauchee  would  have  felt 
rebuked  into  nothingness  before  the  genius  of  the 
warrior  of  the  woods.  But  let  the  man  rest;  he  had 
that  one  virtue  to  which  all  weak  minds  bow — cou- 
rage. And  so  had  the  Hessians,  that  in  a subse- 
quent war  were  bought  to  fight  against  us  for  six- 
pence a day.  May  we  rather  meet,  again  and  again, 
such  brave  mercenaries  in  battle,  than  be  marshall- 
ed once  to  the  fight  by  a leader  whom  even  valour 
cannot  shelter  from  deserved  contempt ! 

The  field  of  this  celebrated  action  presents,  of 
course,  a very  different  appearance  from  what  it 
did  when  Braddock’s  followers  were  here  hunted 
through  the  forest.  It  is,  however,  but  a few  years 
since  the  wood  was  cut  from  the  side  hill,  and  traces 
of  the  conflict  are  still  occasionally  discovered  in 
the  grove  along  the  margin  of  the  river  below.  I 
was  told,  too,  that  bones  and  bullets,  with  rusted 


THE  BATTLE  FIELD. 


63 


knives,  hatchets,  and  bayonets,  were  sometimes 
even  yet  turned  up  by  the  plough  on  the  spot  where 
the  fight  was  hottest.  The  central  enclosure  was 
cleared  about  seventeen  years  since.  It  was 
heavily  timbered  at  the  time  ; and  they  tell  in  the 
neighbourhood  that  the  teeth  of  the  saws  in  the 
mills  adjacent  were  continually  broken  upon  the 
balls  imbedded  in  the  ancient  trees.  Quantities  of 
human  bones  and  rust-eaten  weapons  are  said  to 
have  been  found  beneath  the  surface  of  the  soil 
when  the  plough  first  invaded  this  memorable  wood. 
I picked  up  a bone  myself,  which  my  horse’s  hoof 
disengaged  from  the  soil ; but  my  skill  in  anatomy 
not'  being  sufficient  to  determine  whether  it  was 
even  human  or  not,  I returned  the  mouldering  relic 
to  the  dust,  of  which  it  was  rapidly  becoming  a part. 
It  was  an  animated  and  interesting  hour’s  amuse- 
ment, after  our  party  had  taken  down  the  interme- 
diate fences,  which  were  too  high  to  clear,  to  gallop 
over  the  whole  battle  ground,  and  survey  it  from 
every  point.  A prettier  spot  to  fight  on  never 
greeted  the  eye  of  a soldier.  The  undulations  of 
the  field  are  just  sufficient  to  exercise  a nice  mili- 
tary discrimination  in  the  choice  of  position,  while 
the  ground  is  yet  so  little  broken  that  cavalry  might 
act  on  any  part  of  it  to  advantage.  The  centre  of 
the  battle  field  would  command  a fine  view  of  the 
river,  were  but  a vista  or  two  cut  in  the  wood  below ; 
and  even  now  it  offers  a beautiful  site  for  a private 
residence,  and  would,  with  the  lands  adjacent,  make 
a noble  park.  There  are  a few  superb  oaks  still 
standing  at  the  foot  of  the  slope,  which  might  con- 


64 


RELIC  HUNTERS. 


stitute  a lawn,  and — what  must  enhance  the  value 
of  the  place  with  all  faithful  ghost  believers  and 
pious  lovers  of  the  marvellous — the  dim  form  of  the 
red  savage,  with  the  ghastly  spectre  of  his  pallid 
victim  shrinking  before  it,  it  is  said,  may  be  seen 
gliding  at  times  among  these  hoary  trunks.  The 
exorcising  light  of  noon  most  perversely  shone 
down  among  them  while  I lingered  near  the  spot; 
but  I could  fancy  that  the  November  wind  which 
sighed  among  their  branches  was  charged  at  times 
with  a wailing  sound,  such — such,  in  fact,  as  an 
orthodox  tree  in  a perfect  state  of  health  would 
never  make  of  its  own  accord. 

Returning  home,  one  of  the  party  proposed  stop- 
ping at  a gentleman’s  house  in  the  vicinity,  where  a 
number  of  articles  picked  up  from  the  field  were 
said  to  be  collected.  Not  a soul  of  us  knew  the 
proprietor  of  the  establishment ; and  it  would  have 
amused  you  to  see  the  effect  produced  upon  its  in- 
mates— whom  I soon  ascertained  to  be  a large  col- 
lection of  boarding  school  young  ladies — by  our 
formidable  descent  upon  the  premises.  We  w^ere 
asked  into  a handsome  parlour,  and  in  about  fifteen 
minutes  our  host  appeared.  A gentleman  of  our 
number,  whose  western  frankness  of  manner  made 
him  the  most  suitable  spokesman  at  such  an  awk- 
ward meeting,  opened  the  preliminaries,  and  apolo- 
gizing for  our  unceremonies  intrusion,  revealed 
our  character  as  relic  hunters.  The  stranger  host, 
overlooking  the  absence  of  “ sandal  shoon  and 
scallop  shell,”  welcomed  us-at  once  with  the  same 
politeness  that  pilgrims  have  ever  received  in  civi- 


STEAM  ENGINES. 


65 


lized  countries,  and  regretting  that  he  had  not  even 
a remnant  to  swear  by — not  an  atom  of  a relic — sent 
us  home  to  our  supper  with  appetites  considerably 
sharpened  by  the  disappointment. 

Returning,  I diverged  with  one  of  the  company 
from  the  direct  road  a little,  to  take  a look  at  the 
United  States’  arsenal.  It  lies  on  the  banks  of  the 
Alleghany,  and  consists,  together  with  the  officer’s 
quarters,  of  a number  of  handsome  brick  buildings, 
painted  cream  colour,  and  so  arranged  with  regard 
to  each  other  as  that,  in  connexion  with  the  impro- 
ved grounds  adjacent,  they  make  quite  a hand- 
some appearance. 

It  was  nearly  dark  when  we  got  fairly  into  town, 
where  the  dust  and  smoke,  with  the  rattling  of 
drays  along  the  streets  returning  from  their  day’s 
work  to  the  suburbs,  reminded  me  not  a little  of  my 
own  bustling  city  at  night  fall.  There  is  one  sound, 
however,  in  the  streets  of  Pittsburg,  which  utterly 
forbids  a stranger  mistaking  them  for  those  of  any 
other  town  on  the  continent— it  is  the  ceaseless  din 
of  the  steam  engines.  Every  mechanic  here,  of 
any  pretension,  has  one  of  these  tremendous  jour- 
neymen at  work  in  his  establishment.  They  may 
be  purchased  for  what ^ would  be  the  price  of  a pair 
of  horses  in  New-York;  and  it  costs  a mere  trifle 
to  keep  them  in  fuel.  These  machines  must  do 
the  work  of  a great  many  thousand  men  at  Pitts- 
burg; and  though  I am  hardly  such  a friend  of 
universal  suffrage  as  to  think  that  these  substitutes 
for  men  ought  to  be  represented  in  the  legislature, 
yet  upon  my  word,  they  should  always  be  taken 

f 2 


66 


RAPID  RISE  OF  PITTSBURG. 


into  consideration  when  estimating  the  population 
of  the  place  which  their  industrious  labour  renders 
so  flourishing. 

“ Proud  deeds  these  iron  men  have  done.” 


LETTER  VI. 

Rapid  Rise  of  Pittsburg — Trade  of  Pittsburg — Early  Settlers — 
Unrivalled  View — Remains  of  the  Fort — Water  Works — Grant’s 
Grave — A Morning  Ride — A Coal  Pit— Remains  of  a Mill  Dam. 

Pittsburg,  Nov.  8. 

There  is  no  place  in  the  Western  country  which 
can  more  justly  boast  of  its  small  beginnings,  its  rapid 
but  solid  growth,  and  its  future  greatness,  than  this. 
It  is  about  seventy  years  since  General  Washington, 
then  a young  man  of  two  and  twenty,  was  des- 
patched by  Governor  Dinwiddie,  of  Virginia,  to  the 
French  commander  on  Le  Bceuf,  (near  Erie,)  to 
demand  that  he  should  desist  from  aggression  upon 
the  British  frontier.  The  young  officer,  on  his  re- 
turn down  the  Alleghany,  upon  a raft  made  with 
tomahawks,  was  wrecked  with  a single  Indian  at- 
tendant on  an  island  near  the  present  city  of  Pitts- 
burg. The  situation  of  the  point  of  land  formed  by 
“ the  Forks  of  the  Ohio”  at  once  caught  his  military 
eye  ; and  crossing  on  the  ice  in  the  morning,  he 
examined  the  position  with  sufficient  minuteness  to 
impress  his  commander  with  its  importance.  The 


RAPID  RISE  OF  PITTSBURG, 


67 


spot  was  soon  after  taken  possession  of  by  a small 
colonial  force,  which  in  1754  was  easily  dispersed 
by  the  formidable  descent  of  the  French  under 
Contrecoeur.  He  came  with  a thousand  men  at  his 
back,  and  floated  various  munitions  of  war,  among 
which  were  eighteen  pieces  of  cannon,  in  three 
hundred  and  sixty  canoes,  down  the  Alleghany. 
The  first  blow  was  struck  of  the  old  French  war, 
which  lost  France  all  her  possessions  east  of  the 
Mississippi.  Contrecoeur  intrenched  himself  upon 
the  spot,  and  the  bloody  annals  of  Fort  du  Quesne 
received  their  first  notoriety  from  this  bold  invader. 

Thirty  years  afterward,  the  place,  now  become 
known  as  Fort  Pitt,  began  to  assume  commercial 
importance  from  the  Indian  fur  trade  then  carried 
on  with  vigour  from  this  point.  An  increase  of 
population  ensued ; the  extensive  coarl  b^ls  in  the 
vicinity  began  to  be  appreciated  ; they  indicated  the 
prodigious  manufacturing  resources  of  the  rising 
town  of  Pittsburg.  The  adjacent  country  became 
rapidly  peopled,  and  it  was  soon  the  agricultural 
depot  for  the  rich  region  on  this  side  of  the  Allegha- 
nies.  The  genius  of  Fulton  matured  at  once  the 
rising  fortunes  of  Pittsburg,  and  gave  her  a market 
for  her  overflowing  productions. 

Situated  two  thousand  miles  from  New-Orleans, 
by  the  aid  of  steam  she  supplies  the  whole  of  the 
intermediate  region  with  hardware,  machinery,  and 
cutlery.*  But  it  is  not  for  this  manufacture  alone 

* Bloom  iron,  I am  told,  is  brought  hither  for  manufacture  from 
the  forges  on  the  Juniata,  from  Tennessee,  Kentucky,  and  Mis- 


68 


TRADE  OF  PITTSBURG. 


that  Pittsburg,  though  often  called  the  “ Birming- 
ham of  America,”  is  celebrated.  Her  extensive 
glass  works  are  well  known  even  beyond  the  Alle- 
ghanies ; and  this  fragile  production  of  her  work- 
shops finds  its  way  alike  to  the  borders  of  Lake 
Erie  and  of  the  Atlantic,  and  may  be  met  in  the 
elegant  mansions  of  Baltimore  and  the  remote 
shantees  of  the  Arkansaw. 

The  timber  trade  is  another  great  feature  in  the 
business  relations  of  Pittsburg ; the  boards  and 
scantling  measured  within  the  city,  in  1830,  amount- 
ed to  more  than  five  millions  of  feet ; of  this  a great 
deal  was  floated  down  the  branches  of  the  Alleghany 
River  from  the  south-western  counties  of  New- 
York.  The  romantic  hills  of  Chatauque  county 
supply  not  a few  of  the  stately  trunks  which,  after 
sipiape  at  Pittsburg,  subsequently 
float  the  varied  products  of  northern  industry  through 
many t a stranger  climate  to  the  rich  markets  of 
Louisiana.  You  will  not  wonder,  therefore,  that 
the  freight  exported  from  Pittsburg,  in  1830,  amount- 
ed to  upwards  of  18,000  tons,  its  imports  for  the 
same  year  being  more  than  14,000  tons.  The  city 
is  now,  with  its  adjacent  villages,  the  third  in  popu- 
lation, wealth,  and  importance  in  the  Mississippi 
valley.  Next  to  its  admirable  situation,  the  flourish- 
ing condition  of  the  place  is  no  doubt  to  be  mainly 
attributed  to  the  inexhaustible  quantities  of  fine 
bituminous  coal  which  may  be  had  for  the  digging 

souri ; and  contracts  are  frequently  made  for  thirty-eight  dollars  per 
ton  to  take  the  blooms  at  St.  Louis  and  return  them  rolled  iron. 


UNRIVALLED  VIEW, 


69 


in  all  the  adjacent  hills.  Pittsburg  is,  however,  in- 
debted to  the  character  of  her  early  settlers  for  her 
present  eminence;  they  were  chiefly  mechanics, 
enterprising,  industrious,  practical  men ; the  im- 
provements they  commenced  were  based  upon 
utility,  and  every  path  of  trade  they  struck  out  led 
to  some  immediate  and  tangible  good.  The  result 
shows  itself  in  one  of  the  most  substantial  and 
flourishing,  but  least  elegant,  cities  on  the  continent. 
The  site  of  the  town  I have  already  described  to 
you  as  one  of  the  most  beautiful  that  can  be  ima- 
gined. The  want  t)f  beauty  in  the  place  itself  is  to 
be  attributed  entirely  to  the  manner  in  which  it  is 
laid  out ; for  the  streets,  though  by  no  means  wide, 
are  well  and  substantially  built  upon  with  brick  ; 
and  a species  of  yellow  freestone  found  in  the 
vicinity  is  coming  into  use,  which,  for  elegance  as 
a building  material,  is  not  surpassed  by  marble 
itself.  The  great  defect  in  the  town  is  the  total 
want  of  public  squares,  and^  indeed,  of  an  agreeable 
promenade  of  any  kind;  this  is  the  more  remarkable, 
I might  almost  say  provoking,  as  Pittsburg  boasts 
of  one  spot  which,  if  converted  into  a public  place, 
would,  from  the  view  it  commands,  be  unrivalled  by 
any  thing  of  the  kind  in  the  Union,  unless  it  be  the 
Battery  of  New-York.  I allude  to  a triangular 
piece  of  ground,  at  the  confluence  of  the  two  rivers, 
at  the  end  of  the  town.  It  is  the  site  of  the  old 
forts,  and  commands  the  first  view  of  the  Ohio,  and 
the  finest  of  its  waters  I have  yet  seen;  the  pros- 
pect I have  described  to  you  in  a former  letter. 
Had  but  the  ancient  fortifications  been  preserved, 


70 


REMAINS  OF  THE  FORT. 


this  would  have  been  one  of  the  most  interesting 
spots  upon  the  continent:  of  Fort  du  Quesne  there 
remains  now  but  a small  mound ; Fort  Pitt  may  be 
more  easily  traced ; part  of  three  bastions,  about 
breast  high,  stand  within  different  private  enclo- 
sures, and  a piece  of  the  curtain,  which  within  a 
few  years  was  in  complete  preservation,  may  still 
be  discovered  among  the  piles  of  lumber  in  a steam 
saw-mill  yard.  The  commandant’s  quarters,  a 
steep  roofed  brick  dwelling  in  the  form  of  a penta- 
gon, is,  however,  the  only  perfect  remnant  of  these 
old  military  structures.  I expected  to  have  seen 
the  magazine  of  the  fort,  which  I was  told  was  an 
admirable  piece  of  masonry,  and  still  endured  in 
the  shape  of  a porter  cellar ; but,  upon  arriving  at 
the  spot  where  it  had  stood  but  a few  weeks  before, 
a pile  of  rough  stones  was  all  that  we  could  dis- 
cover. In  a country  like  ours,  where  so  few  an- 
tiquities meet  the  eye,  it  is  melancholy  to  see 
these  interesting  remnants  thus  destroyed,  and  the 
very  landmarks  where  they  stood  effaced  for  ever. 
Occasionally,  too,  the  works,  of  which  every  vestige 
is  thus  painfully  obliterated,  were,  especially  when 
erected  by  the  French,  of  a peculiarly  striking  cha- 
racter. The  French  engineers,  who  hist  introduced 
the  art  of  fortification  into  this  country,  were  of  the 
school  of  Yauban ; and  the  enduring  monuments 
they  raised  were  not  less  noble  proofs  of  their  skill, 
than  were  the  sites  selected,  of  their  high  military 
discernment. 

There  is  yet  another  place  in  Pittsburg  which  at 
some  future  day  should  be  appropriated  as  a public 


WATER-WORKS. 


71 


square ; a triangular  bluff,  about  one  hundred  feet 
high,  stretches  like  a huge  promontory  far  into  the 
town,  and  overlooks  the  whole  place.  The  Pitts- 
burgers,  however,  I fear,  are  more  bent  upon  in- 
creasing their  “ fathers’  store”  than  on  beautifying 
the  favoured  spot  in  which  they  dwell ; and  it  re- 
quires all  the  cordial  hospitality  of  the  place  to  re- 
concile a stranger  to  the  few  city  improvements  he 
sees  going  forward  in  a community  so  pre-eminent 
for  its  individual  enterprise.  The  place  is  well 
supplied  .with  water.  It  is  pumped  up  from  the 
Alleghany  by  a steam-engine  into  a large  open  ba- 
sin, situated  on  an  eminence  known  as  Grant’s  Hill, 
from  the  signal  defeat  of  that  rash  but  gallant  officer 
at  its  base  during  the  old  French  war.  From  this 
ample  reservoir  pipes  conduct  the  fluid  to  every 
part  of  the  city.  A large  Gothic  cathedral  is  now 
about  to  be  erected  near  the  water-works. 

You  remember  Grant’s  fight,  as  described  by 
Hall  in  his  beautiful  Western  Sketches.  Grant 
bivouacked  beneath  the  hill  now  called  after  him ; 
and  ordering  his  reveille  to  beat  at  dawn,  the  French 
and  Indians  charged  upon  him  to  the  sound  of  his 
own  trumpets,  and  cut  his  troops  to  pieces.  His 
force,  I believe,  consisted  chiefly  of  Highlanders. 
The  skeleton  of  a young  officer,  with  gold  in  his 
pocket  and  marks  of  rank  about  his  person,  was 
turned  up  in  a field  not  far  distant,  a few  years  since. 
A western  poet  has  commemorated  the  incident  in 
some  verses,  among  which  are  the  following  simple 
lines : — ■ 


72 


grant’s  grave. 


“ One  Highland  officer  that  bloody  day 
Retreated  up  the  Alleghany  side ; 

Wounded  and  faint,  he  missed  his  tangled  way, 

And  near  its  waters  laid  him  down  and  died. 

5Twas  in  a furrow  of  a sandy  swell 

Which  overlooks  the  clear  and  pebbled  wave; 

Shrouded  in  leaves,  none  found  him  where  he  fell, 

And  mouldering  nature  gave  the  youth  a grave. 

Last  year  a plough  passed  o’er  the  quiet  spot, 

And  brought  to  light  frail  vestiges  of  him 

Whose  unknown  fate  perhaps  is  not  forgot, 

And  fills  with  horror  yet  a sister’s  dream.” 

On  the  side  of  the  hill  is  a place  still  pointed  out 
as  “ Grant’s  grave.”  I know  not  why  it  should  be 
thus  designated  however ; for  I believe  that  the 
worthy  colonel,  who  afterward  served  in  the  British 
army  during  the  revolution,  never  returned  to  lay 
his  bones  in  a spot  where  the  spirits  of  his  rashly 
sacrificed  soldiers  might  have  made  him  uneasy  in 
his  grave.  There  is  a more  authentic  tomb  on  the 
western  bank  of  the  Alleghany  : it  is  the  last  rest- 
ing-place of  an  Indian,  who,  as  tradition  avers,  see- 
ing “ Helen’s  beauty  in  a brow  of  Egypt,”  shot 
himself  for  love  ! — -an  instance  of  intense  regard — • 
of  passionate  devotion  to  woman,  which  most  wri- 
ters upon  Indian  character  would  have  us  believe 

could  never  exhibit  itself  in 

: % ' / 

“ The  stoic  of  the  woods.” 

. %; 

The  walks  and  rides  in  the  environs  of  Pittsburg 
are  rendered  interesting  by  a variety  of  objects,  be- 
sides the  fine  scenery  through  which  they  lead.  A 


A MORNING  RIDE. 


73 


description  of  the  Pennsylvania  Canal,  which  flows 
on  an  aqueduct  over  the  Alleghany,  and,  passing 
through  a tunnel  of  a few  yards  in  length,  locks  into 
the  Monongahela,  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  city, 
would  furnish  you  with  no  newer  ideas  than  a de- 
scription of  any  other  canal.  The  Nunnery,  which 
is  also  one  of  the  lions  of  the  neighbourhood,  I have 
not  hitherto  had  an  opportunity  to  visit;  and  “Brad- 
dock’s  field”  you  have  already  in  a letter  by  itself ; 
.so,  having  now  a tolerable  idea  of  the  town — with 
its  compact  brick  dwellings,  dingy  with  coal-smoke ; 
its  natural  wharfs,  where  the  Ohio  rises  twenty-five 
feet;  its  gravelly  banks,  lined  with  steata-boats  and 
river-craft,  and  bustling  with  business  operations 
upon  the  most  extensive  scale — you  must  follow 
me  in  my  ride  of  this  morning  along  the'  Monon- 
gahela. 

The  fog  and  coal-smoke  together  rendered  the 
atmosphere  so  thick,  even  bridge 

over  the  river  to  a straggling  village  opposite,  that 
I verily  believe  it  was  only  the  dazzling  sparkle  of 
a pair  of  queen-like  eyes,  marshalling  me  through 
the  gloom,  that  enabled  me  to  ascend  the  opposite 
height  with  safety.  Leaving  the  rest  of  the  party 
far  behind,  I followed  their  beautiful  and  high-spi- 
rited owTner  up  a winding  path,  where  our  horses, 
after  sinking  to  their  fetlocks  in  the  clayey  soil, 
would  slip  half  a pace  backward  at  every  step,  and 
gained  at  last  an  elevation  nearly  five  hundred  feet 
above  the  level  of  the  river,  where,  to  my  surprise, 
instead  of  a sudden  descent  upon  the  opposite  side, 
the  eminence  continued  rising  in  a succession  of 

VOL-  I. G 


74 


A MO  RNING  RIDE. 


fertile  fields,  until  the  last  green  slope  was  termi- 
nated by  a distant  wood.  We  rode  along  the  edge 
of  the  precipice  for  a mile  or  two ; and  from  the 
state  of  the  atmosphere  on  the  side  towards  the 
towTn,  you  can  conceive  nothing  more  singular  than 
the  effect  of  the  scene  below.  Imagine  yourself 
standing  on  Weehawk  Height,  with  your  own  city 
brought  immediately  beneath  your  feet,  the  whole 
landscape  bright  and  clear  above,  and  a cloud  so  im- 
pervious below  that  not  an  object  can  be  discerned 
at  five  yards’  distance.  The  gulf  seems  unfathom- 
able. The  hoarse  jar  of  machinery  comes  upon  the 
ear  like  the  groans  of  a nether  world;  and  the  lurid 
flame  which  ever  and  anon  shoots  from  some  fur- 
nace athwart  the  gloom,  shows  like  the  penal  ^ele- 
ment itself.  But  now  the  noonday  sun  has  pierced 
into  that  murky  glen, — the  fog  begins  to  rise, — a 
gilded  spire  glances  here  and  there  in  the  broad 
sunshine,  and  some  tall  headland  stands  greenly 
out  from  the  silver  veil  that  wraps  its  base ; the 
banner  from  yonder  arsenal  floats  gaily  forth  in  the 
warm  air,  and,  as  the  flaky  mist  rolls  more  rapidly 
up  the  river,  begins  to  stream  upon  the  freshening 
breeze.  The  rivers  themselves  can  now  be  traced 
far  away,  with  many  a dewy  island  stealing  out  one 
by  one  upon  their  bosom.  Beneath,  a bustling  city 
seems  as  if  it  had  sprung  at  once  to  life,  while  the 
quiet  farm  houses  slowly  appear  upon  the  sleeping 
fields  beyond. 

This  single  view  is  worth  a journey  to  Pitts- 
burg. 

I took  an  opportunity,  while  a lady  of  the  party 


A COAL-PIT. 


75 


stopped  to  visit  a pensioner  in  a cottage  by  the  road- 
side, to  examine  a coal-pit  just  beneath  the  brow  of 
the  hill.  Dismounting  on  a small  platform  some 
two  hundred  feet  above  the  river,  from  which  a 
railway  empties  the  coal  into  the  coke-kilns  upon 
its  bank,  and  the  freight-boats  upon  the  shore,  I en- 
tered an  aperture  in  the  rock,  about  six  feet  in 
height  and  four  in  breadth.  A guide  preceded  me 
with  a candle,  and  after  penetrating  under  his  escort 
a few  hundred  yards,  I turned  aside  to  explore 
some  of  the  adjacent  shafts  : they  lie  like  the  streets 
of  one  main  avenue — the  veins  of  a grand  artery, 
which,  after  winding  through  the  body  of  the  hill 
for  the  distance  of  half  a mile,  finds  its  way  again  to 
the  light.  In  one  of  these  cavernous  passages,  in  a 
ledge  of  the  rock,  lay  a sleeping  man ; the  water 
trickling  from  the  black  walls  around  was  the  only 
sound  to  disturb  his  slumbers ; a long-wicked  can- 
dle stuck  in  a crevice  above  his  head,  shining  over 
thickly  matted  locks,  and  features  begrimed  with 
coal  dust,  revealed  a figure  of  gigantic  mould.  The 
mattock  on  which  his  ponderous  arm  reposed,  told 
that  it  was  only  a miner  at  his  noonday  nap ; but 
he  might  have  been  mistaken,  by  one  coming  sud- 
denly upon  his  singular  place  of  repose,  for  a slum- 
bering Titan,  who,  though  pent  within  such  narrow 
confines,  might  yet  shake  the  mountain  piled  upon 
him  to  its  base. 

Our  route  now,  after  leading  still  farther  along  the 
height,  commanding  at  every  step  some  new  view 
of  the  town  and  the  adjacent  country,  with  the 
three  rivers  seaming  its  bosom,  struck  at  last  into 


76 


REMAINS  OF  A MILL-DAM = 


a fine  wood,  and  then  descending  suddenly  into  a 
romantic  dell,  followed  a small  stream  which  soon 
led  us  back  to  the  Ohio.  Here,  again,  might  be 
traced  a display  of  French  taste,  which,  when  the 
fabric  was  entire,  must  have  been  exceedingly 
beautiful.  It  was  the  remains  of  a mill-dam  con- 
structed  by  the  officers  of  Fort  du  Quesne,  accord- 
ing to  the  most  approved  rules  of  the  time,  like  a 
perfect  fortification  ; a part  of  the  curtain,  with 
traces  of  some  of  the  bastions,  yet  reward  the  eye 
of  the  curious.  At  the  mouth  of  the  glen  we 
paused  to  look  at  a salt  factory ; and  then  crossing 
a bridge  over  the  brook,  we  passed  by  a steel 
factory  and  several  coke-kilns,  situated  along  the 
base  of  the  cliff,  from  the  summit  of  which  I had 
recently  looked  down  upon,  and  admired  the  scene 
below. 

The  embouchure  of  the  Monongahela  was  at 
hand,  and  stepping  on  board  of  a small  horse-boat 
at  the  point  where  that  river  loses  itself  in  the  Ohio, 
I soon  terminated  on  the  opposite  side  one  of  the 
most  delightful  rides  I can  recollect  to  have  taken. 


STAGE-COACH  COMPANIONS. 


77 


LETTER  VII. 

Stage-coach  Companions — Leave  Pittsburg — The  Journey — 
Breakfast — Rapp’s  Community — Religious  Freedom — Terrible  Ex- 
ample— Magnificent  Vegetation — Cleaveland — Pleasant  Ride — 
Treacherous  Shore. 

Cleaveland,  Ohio,  Nov.  15. 

I took  my  passage  in  the  stage-coach  for  this 
place  early  in  the  evening  three  days  since ; and 
having  at  a late  hour  bade  adieu  to  more  than  one 
whose  friendship  I trust  will  not  be  the  less  endur- 
ing that  it  was  made  in  so  brief  a space  of  time, 
retired  to  my  chamber  to  catch  a nap  before  my 
morning’s  ride.  The  clock  was  striking  three  when 
at  the  call  of  the  porter  I rose  and  descended  to  the 
bar-room.  The  attentive  landlord,  himself  in  wait- 
ing,  was  ruminating  before  a large  coal  fire  ; and 
stretched  upon  the  floor  in  a corner  lay  the  tired 
domestic,  who,  having  just  fulfilled  a part  of  his 
duty  in  awakening  the  -various  passengers,  was 
catching  a dog  nap  before  the  stage-coach  should 
drive  to  the  door.  The  flavour  of  last  night’s  po- 
tations still  hung  around  the  scene  of  so  many 
symposia,  and  the  fragrance  of  more  than  one  re- 
cently smoked  cigar  stole,  charged  with  the  aroma 
of  whiskey,  upon  the  senses.  Cold  as  it  was,  I was 
not  sorry  to  snuff  a less  scented  atmosphere,  as 

g 2 


78 


LEAVE  PITTSBURG. 


each  stage  that  passed  the  house  in  succession 
hurried  me  vainly  to  the  door.  My  own  proper 
vehicle  came  at  last ; and  by  the  light  of  the  stage 
lamps — the  only  ones,  by  the  by,  which  shone 
through  the  sleeping  city — I climbed  to  the  coach- 
man’s box,  and  took  the  traveller’s  favourite  seat  by 
his  side.  It  was  as  dark  as  Erebus  when  we  crossed 
the  bridge  over  the  Alleghany  ; and  looking  back 
when  we  had  passed  the  gate  and  wTere  turning  into 
the  village,  I could  distinguish  nothing  of  the  city 
opposite  but  the  red  glare  of  a furnace  which  shot 
out  from  the  bank  of  the  river,  and  glowed  an  in- 
verted pyramid  of  light  upon  its  waters.  Keeping 
on  our  way,  the  massive  walls  of  the  state-prison, 
with  their  circular  towers  and  octangular  area, 
frowned  like  some  old  Moorish  castle  over  our 
path,  as  we  drove  beneath  their  dun- coloured  bat- 
tlements and  passed  the  last  environs  of  Pittsburg. 
It  was,  I confess,  with  some  soberness  of  spirit 
that  I bade  a last  adieu  to  a spot  where  the  polite- 
ness and  hospitality  of  the  inhabitants  had  made 
my  time  pass  so  pleasantly.  I must,  however, 
have  been  among  my  new  acquaintances,  had  I re- 
mained much  longer;  for  in  Pittsburg  every  one  is 
so  occupied  with  business,  that  the  time  bestowed 
in  attentions  to  a stranger  is  a sacrifice  of  some 
importance.  I have  since  been  much  vexed  to 
find,  in  looking  over  my  papers  here,  that  a letter 
of  introduction,  from  a most  flattering  source,  to 
the  United  States  officer  now  commanding  at  Pitts- 
burg, escaped  me  entirely.  I was  chagrined  the 
more,  inasmuch  as  I should  have  liked  both  to  visit 


BREAKFAST. 


79 


the  arsenal,  and  to  make  the  acquaintance  of  the 
valuable  officer  who  has  charge  of  it.  I had  not, 
however,  this  reflection  to  annoy  me  as,  wrapped 
up  warmly,  I rode  along,  watching  the  cheer- 
ful dawn  streaking  the  east  with  pencillings  of 
light,  and  dappling  with  ruddy  rays  the  broad  bo- 
som of  the  Ohio.  As  the  morning  gradually  broke, 
I discovered  that  the  banks  of  the  river  presented 
a different  appearance  from  wdiat  they  did  w7hen  I 
sailed  along  them  ten  days  before.  The  Novem- 
ber winds  had  been  at  work  in  the  woods  : the 
gorgeous  panoply  of  autumn  no  longer  hung  on  the 
forest ; the  trees  stood  bare  in  the  growing  sunlight, 

and  the  thick  strewn  leaves  rustled  to  the  tread  of 

- 

the  gray  squirrel  that  leaped  from  the  naked  boughs 
by  the  road-side. 

We  stopped  to  breakfast  at  a low  log  built 
shantee,  within  a stone’s  throw  of  the  river,,  and 
being  asked  into  a narrow  chamber^  half  parlour, 
half  kitchen,  I had  for  the  first  time  an  opportunity, 
as  we  collected  around  the  breakfast  table,,  to  sur- 
vey my  fellow  passengers.  They  were  chiefly 
plain  people,  small  farmers  and  graziers,  returning 
perhaps  from  market,  where  they  had  been  to  part 
with  their  produce.  Their  manner,  like  most  of 
our  countrymen  of  the  same  class,  was  grave  and 
decorous  at  table  to  a degree  approaching  to  solem- 
nity, though  they  ate  with  the  rapidity  characteristic 
of  Americans  at  their  meals..  The  ceremony  of  the 
board  commenced  by  the  oldest  man  in  the  com- 
pany taking  a beefsteak  before  him,  and  cutting  it 
into  small  pieces  with  his  own  knife  and  fork : he 


80 


RAPP’s  COMMUNITY 


then  passed  the  dish  around  to  each,  and  finally, 
when  all  were  served,  helped  himself.  The  bread 
was  in  the  same  way  circulated  by  the  youngest  of 
the  company;  and  then,  each  having  as  fair  a start 
as  his  neighbour,  we  all  fell  to  work  with  a lusti- 
hood  that  would  have  done  beef-eating  Queen  Bess 
good  to  witness.  The  appetites  of  those  present 
were  generally  sharpened  by  the  morning’s  ride ; 
and,  maugre  the  huge  piles  of  buckwheat  cakes 
that  smoked  along  the  board,  flanked  each  by  a 
cold  apple  pie,  the  beefsteak  was  decidedly  the 
favourite  dish. 

Pursuing  our  journey,  we  shopped  soon  after  to 
change  horses  at  Economy.  I was  much  disap- 
pointed in  not  having  even  five  minutes  to  look 
through  this  celebrated  village,  where  the  German 
Rapp  has  so  successfully  raised  a community,  who 
labour  in  common,  and  own  all  their  property  only 
as  trust  members  of  a corporation.  I saw  hardly 
as  much  of  the  town,  thus  passing  its  suburbs  in- 
land, as  when  sailing  by  the  front  on  the  Ohio.  It 
struck  me  as  remarkably  neat,  however ; and  it 
being  Sunday,  a perfect  silence  seemed  to  reign 
over  the  village.  Rapp,  I believe,  unlike  most 
community  mongers,  retains  religion,  not  only  as 
incident  to,  but  as  an  essential  feature  of,  his 
system.  Had  it  been  otherwise,  the  attempt  to 
form  such  an  establishment  could  hardly  have  suc- 
ceeded as  it  has.  Religion  I believe  to  be  an 
instinct  of  the  human  mind — a natural  impulse, 
which  at  some  time  determines  the  thoughts  of 
every  heart  heavenward.  It  is  a feeling  which  as 


RELIGIOUS  FREEDOM. 


81 


palpably  prompts  us  to  seek  a God  aud  to  worship 
him,  as  does  the  instinct  of  a bird  suggest  the  season 
of  building  her  nest,  and  the  materials  for  its  con- 
struction. The  form  of  her  frail  fabric  varies  in- 
deed with  the  climate  in  which  it  is  built,  and  the 
character  of  the  winged  artificer ; but  the  haughty 
temples  of  heathenism,  the  sumptuous  mosques  of 
the  Mussulman,  and  the  Christian’s  humbler  house 
of  worship,  may  each  find  a semblance  on  the 
towering  cliffs  or  tall  tree  top,  where  birds  of  prey 
alone  will  build — in  the  empowered  copse,  where 
the  luxurious  dove  delights  to  brood — or  mid  the 
lowly  rushes,  where  the  lapwing’s  fragile  nest  is 
made.  There  is,  indeed,  a stolid  race  of  birds  who 
deposite  their  eggs  upon  the  barren  shore,  leaving 
the  sun  to  vivify  or  the  sea  to  scatter  their  contents 
as  chance  may  determine.  But  stupid  as  their 
offspring,  must  he  be,  who,  in  constructing  an 
aviary,  made  no  provision  for  the  interesting  wants 
of  the  rest  of  the  species,  because  this  particular 
genus  is  so  coarsely  constituted.  Let  us  thank 
Heaven,  when  thinking  of  the  privileges  of  which 
the  intrusive  bigotry  of  foreign  infidels  at  times 
would  strip  us,  that  in  our  free  forests  there  are 
fields,  hills,  and  groves,  where  religion,  unshackled 
as  a new  fledged  bird,  may  build  her  altars  how 
and  where  she  pleases. 

Our  route  continuing  along  the  river,  we  soon 
passed  a fine  elevated  field  on  the  bank  where 
General  Wayne — or  Mad  Antony,  as  he  was  more 
familiarly  called — encamped  with  his  army  that 


82 


TERRIBLE  EXAMPLE. 


encountered  the  Indians  so  successfully  near  the 
Miami  of  the  Lakes. 

The  stone  fireplaces  of  the  soldiery,  now  over- 
grown with  turf,  were,  with  a few  other  scattered 
marks  of  the  encampment,  discernible  upon  the 
ground ; and  they  suggested  to  one  of  the  pas- 
sengers the  well  known  anecdote  of  the  general 
having  one  of  his  men  tried  and  shot  for  desertion, 
because  he  had,  without  permission  from  his  offi- 
cer, accompanied  an  only  brother,  his  visiter  at  the 
camp,  a few  miles  on  his  return  home.  The  ex- 
ample was  a terrible  one  ; but  the  condition  of 
Wayne’s  army,  from  which  the  men  were  daily 
dropping  off,  strongly  required  it  ; and  I confess 
that  in  military  affairs  I respect  the  firmness  equal 
to  such  an  occasion  too  much,  to  merge  my  admi- 
ration of  the  unblenching  disciplinarian  in  sympa- 
thy for  the  unfortunate  sufferer. 

We  reached  the  thriving  town  of  Beaver  about 
noon,  and  crossing  the  creek  of  the  same  name  by 
a high  wooden  bridge,  struck  inland,  and  soon  lost 
sight  of  the  beautiful  Ohio  in  the  broken  country 
that  here  approaches  its  banks.  A cold  shower 
drove  me  for  protection  inside  the  stage,  and  there, 
wrapping  myself  up  as  comfortably  as  I could,  I 
passed  the  night.  The  passengers  had  gradually 
dropped  off  along  the  road,  leaving  only  a solitary 
country  merchant  and  myself.  We  beguiled  the 
time  for  a while  in  conversation;  and  then,  as  mid- 
night came  on,  and  he  grew  drowsy,  I resigned 
myself  to  the  same  influence  that  had  begun  to 
send  sounds  anything  but  musical  from  his  “ inno- 


MAGNIFICENT  VEGETATION. 


83 


cent  nose.”  Awaking  with  the  sun,  I found  that  we 
were  in  the  midst  of  new  clearings ; the  road  lead- 
ing through  a level  country  as  far  as  the  eye  could 
reach,  and  having  its  sides  faced  beyond  the  fields 
with  trees,  which,  with  tall  stems  and  interlacing 
summits,  stood  like  giants  locking  arms  along  the 
highway.  I must  now  be  in  Ohio,  thought  I ; and 
I was  right.  The  effect  of  this  magnificent  vegeta- 
tion was  striking  even  at  this  season;  but  after  riding 
for  half  a day  along  such  a wood,  with  not  a valley 
to  break  the  view,  nor  a hill  to  bound  it,  it  could 
not  but  be  monotonous.  We  passed  two  lakes  in 
the  course  of  our  ride,  approaching  one  of  them  near 
enough  to  see  that  it  was  a clear  sheet  of  water, 
with  a pretty  yellow  sand-beach ; but  though  shut 
up  by  woods,  it  wanted  entirely  the  wild  yet  gentle 
picturesqueness  of  the  lakes  I have  seen  among  and 
near  the  highlands  of  the  Hudson ; much  less  could 
it  boast  of  the  savage  grandeur  of  those  which  form 
the  sources  of  that  princely  river. 

The  most  interesting  objects  on  this  route  are 
decidedly  the  growing  towns  and  hamlets  which 
abound  along  the  road.  Some  of  them  have  been 
manufactured  only  this  season  ; and  it  is  really  sur- 
prising to  see  rude  log  huts  of  two  years’  date,  stand- 
ing side  by  side  with  tasteful  edifices  of  yesterday, 
like  the  old  and  new  branches  of  one  flourishing 
tree  ; brick  churches  and  hotels,  with  handsome 
porticos,  surrounded  by  the  stumps  of  recently  felled 
forests.  In  one  village,  called  Hudson,  particularly 
— where,  by  the  way,  much  good  taste  is  exhibited 
in  the  private  houses — the  progress  of  improvement 


84 


•CLEAVE  LAND. 


is  said  to  be  as  perceptible  as  the  rise  of  the  tide  at 
the  sea-board.  I could  not,  however,  discover  a 
palpable  growth  in  the  place  from  the  time  we  sat 
down  to  dinner,  till  hurried  away  from  table  by  the 
call  of  the  stage-driver. 

We  reached  Cleaveland  during  a heavy  shower 
long  after  nightfall.  The  roar  of  the  surf  reminded 
me  of  Rockaway ; and  the  first  view  of  Lake  Erie, 
the  next  morning,  was  really  grateful  to  my  eyes. 
I felt,  while  walking  along  the  high  esplanade  of 
turf  which  here  forms  its  banks,  and  upon  which 
the  town  is  built,  like  one  who  has  just  come  out  of 
a pent-up  chamber  into  the  full  and  free  air  of 
heaven.  The  effect  of  coming  on  such  a wide  ex- 
panse of  water  when  just  emerging  from  the  forest, 
is  much  greater  than  when,  after  long  riding  through 
an  open  country,  you  view  the  ocean  stretched  be- 
yond its  shining  beach. 

Cleaveland  is  very  prettily  situated  upon  the 
lake.  The  Cayuhoga  makes  a bend  around  a high 
bluff  as  it  passes  into  the  inland  sea  which  receives 
its  waters,  and  on  the  level  peninsula  thus  formed 
is  built  the  town.  The  harbour,  naturally  an  in- 
different one,  has  been  much  improved  by  running 
out  a pier  from  either  side  of  the  river  where  it  de- 
bouches into  Lake  Erie  ; and  there  being  now  few 
better  ports  on  this  side  of  the  lake,  Cleaveland  must 
become  one  of  the  most  important  places  on  its  wa- 
ters. The  adjacent  region  is,  I believe,  not  re- 
markably well  suited  to  agricultural  purposes  ; but 
there  is  an  immense  tract  of  the  most  fertile  country 
inland,  which  looks  to  Cleaveland  for  the  chief  out- 


PLEASANT  RIDE. 


85 


let  of  its  products.  This  will  account  for  the  rapid 
rise  of  property  here,  which  is  almost  incredible ; 
building  lots  in  some  places  commanding  now  as 
many  thousands  as  they  did  hundreds  of  dollars  five 
years  since.  The  town,  which  can  already  boast  of 
a public  library,  a fine  church,  two  excellent  inns, 
and  many  handsome  private  dwellings,  is  laid  out 
with  broad  streets  and  a spacious  square  in  the 
centre.  The  business  part  is  as  yet  beneath  the 
bluff,  where  a single  winding  street  runs  along  the 
bank  of  the  river  towards  the  lake ; but  the  main 
street  above  is  already  the  scene  of  much  bustle, 
and  bears  about  the  same  relation  to  that  below  as 
Broadway  does  to  South-street  in  your  city. 

I have  been  happy  here  to  meet  with  some  old 
school-fellows  settled  in  the  place — where,  indeed, 
among  our  wandering  people  can  one  tread  without 
finding  an  acquaintance  ?— and  this  morning  I was 
agreeably  surprised  by  finding  an  English  groom 
waiting  at  the  door  for  me  with  a fine  saddle-horse, 
and  mentioning  that  my  friend  its  owner  would  soon 
join  me  with  another.  We  first  rode  out  through  a 
clearing,  back  of  the  village,  and  enjoyed  a very 
pretty  prospect  of  the  Cayuhoga  winding  through 
a piece  of  rich  meadow-land  below  us,  and  afford- 
ing, as  the  high  grounds  recede  at  its  entrance  into 
the  lake,  a striking  view  of  Erie  in  the  distance. 
Returning  upon  our  tracks,  we  passed  the  village  on 
the  east,  and  then  rode  westwardly  along  the  shore 
of  the  lake.  The  banks,  which  are  high,  and  cover- 
ed with  sod  on  the  top,  are  here  composed  of  clay 
and  gravel : on  the  surface  they  appear  perfectly 

VOL.  i. — H 


86 


TREACHEROUS  SHORE, 


firm,  but  for  the  distance  of  nearly  a mile  along 
shore  they  have  sunk,  or  are  sinking,  to  the  breadth 
of  about  three  hundred  feet,  and  slipped  off  into  the 
lake,  whose  waters  thus  swallow  building  lots  worth 
a great  amount  of  money.  The  cause  is  believed 
to  lie  in  quicksands  beneath ; and  it  offers  a singu- 
lar phenomenon  to  stand  on  the  shore  below,  and, 
marking  the  sunken  platforms  of  earth  behind,  see 
where  half  an  acre  of  clay  has  risen  through  the 
sandy  beach  in  front,  within  a few  inches  of  the 
surface  of  the  wTater. 

The  treacherous  attributes  of  the  shore  suggested 
to  my  companion,  who,  though  young,  has  been  a 
traveller  in  his  day,  an  incident  he  witnessed  while 
journeying  through  some  of  the  remote  provinces 
of  Mexico.  He  had  ridden  with  an  English  gen- 
tleman for  many  hours  through  an  unsettled  coun- 
try, where  not  a drop  of  water  was  to  be  obtained 
for  their  horses,  when,  coming  suddenly  upon  a 
clear  stream  sparkling  over  its  bed  of  yellow  sand, 
their  weary  beasts  sprang  forward  simultaneously 
to  drink  from  the  grateful  current.  A break  in  the 
bank  caused  their  riders  to  reign  up  and  dismount, 
retaining  at  the  same  time  the  loosened  reins  in 
their  hands,  while  their  horses  stepped  down  to  the 
margin  of  the  brook.  The  American,  finding  that 
the  deceitful  bottom  yielded  as  soon  as  touched, 
jerked  his  terrified  beast  from  the  fatal  spot,  while 
as  yet  his  fore-feet  were  only  immersed  in  the 
quicksand.  But  the  horse  of  the  Englishman,  in 
his  eagerness  to  get  at  the  water,  made  but  one  step 
to  destruction.  He  sunk  floundering  to  his  shoul- 


SCENE  OF  CONFUSION. 


87 


ders  before  an  effort  could  be  made  to  rescue  him ; 
and  then,  as  in  his  struggles  to  extricate  himself 
from  the  engulfing  pool,  he  heaved  his  broad  chest 
high  above  its  surface,  the  sucking  sands  drew  his 
quarters  in  a moment  beneath  them.  The  nostrils 
of  the  suffering  animal  dilated  with  the  fierce  death- 
encounter,  and  giving  that  hideous  cry— 

11  The  cry  of  steeds  that  shriek  in  agony,” 

he  tossed  his  head  frantickly  above  his  greedy  grave 
— his  mane  fluttered  for  a moment  on  the  shallow 
water,  and  the  bed  of  the  stream  closed  over  him 
for  ever  \ 


LETTER  VIII. 

Scene  of  Confusion — New-York  Steamboat — Canine  Passengers 
— Emigrant  Passengers — Family  Relics — Emigrants — Steamers — 
Detroit  River — City  of  Detroit — Public  Buildings — Military  Re- 
mains— General  Hull — A Conversation — An  Adventure — French 
in  Canada — Characters  of  the  French — Horses — New  Arsenal — 
Deer-hunting. 

Detroit,  Michigan,  Nov.  25. 

I had  just  left  the  reading-room  of  the  Franklin 
Hotel,  in  Cleaveland,  and  was  making  myself  at 
home  for  the  rest  of  the  evening  in  my  own  neat 
chamber,  when  the  sound  of  a steamboat  bell,  about 
nine  o’clock,  gave  note  that  one  of  these  vessels, 
which  at  this  stormy  season  cannot  navigate  the 


88 


NEW-YORK  STEAMBOAT. 


lake  with  any  regularity,  had  touched  at  Cleave- 
land  on  her  way  to  this  place.  No  time  was  to  be 
lost ; and  huddling  my  clothes,  &c.  into  my  trunk 
as  quickly  as  possible,  I jumped  into  a vehicle  wait- 
ing at  the  tavern  door,  and  in  a few  minutes  was 
upon  the  quay.  Here  I witnessed  a scene  of  in- 
describable confusion.  The  night  was  dark  and 
somewhat  gusty ; and  the  boat  and  the  wharf  were 
both  crowded  with  boxes,  bales,  and  the  effects  of 
emigrants,  who  were  screaming  to  each  other  in 
half  as  many  languages  as  were  spoken  at  Babel. 
Lanterns  were  flashing  to  and  fro  along  the  docks, 
and  hoarse  orders  and  countermands  mingled  with 
the  harsh  hissing  of  the  steam  on  every  side.  At 
length  we  pushed  from  the  shore,  and  escaping  in 
a moment  from  the  head  of  the  mole,  stood  fairly 
out  into  the  lake ; while  the  bright  beacon  of  the 
Cleaveland  lighthouse  soon  waned  in  the  distance, 
and  was  at  last  lost  entirely.  I found  myself,  upon 
looking  around,  on  board  of  the  fine  steamboat  New- 
•York,  captain  Fisher,  to  whose  politeness  I was 
much  indebted  for  showing  me  about  the  boat  be- 
fore turning  in  for  the  night.  Taking  a lantern  in 
his  hand,  and  tucking  my  arm  under  his,  he  groped 
about  among  his  motley  ship’s  company  like  Dio- 
genes looking  for  an  honest  man. 

Our  course  first  led  us  through  a group  of  emi- 
grants collected  around  a stove  midships,  where  an 
English  mother  nursing  her  infant,  a child  lying 
asleep  upon  a mastiff,  and  a long-bearded  German 
smoking  his  meerchaum  on  the  top  of  a pile  of 
candle-boxes,  were  the  only  complete  figures  I 


CANINE  PASSENGERS. 


89 


could  make  out  from  an  indefinite  number  of  heads, 
arms,  and  legs,  lying  about  in  the  most  whimsical 
confusion.  Passing  farther  on,  we  came  to  two 
tolerable  cabins  on  either  side  of  the  boat  just  for- 
ward of  the  wheels,  both  pretty  well  filled  with 
emigrants,  who  were  here  more  comfortably  be- 
stowed. We  next  passed  the  forward  bar-room 
(there  being  another  abaft  for  cabin  passengers), 
and  finally  came  to  the  bow,  of  which  a horse  and 
several  dogs  had  already  been  the  occupants  for  so 
many  days — the  New- York  having  been  twice 
driven  into  port  and  delayed  by  stress  of  weather — 
that  it  might  have  been  mistaken  for  either  stable 
or  kennel.  A noble  English  blood-hound,  the  se- 
cond dog  only  of  that  rare  breed  that  I have  ever 
seen,  here  attracted  my  attention,  and  delayed  me 
until  I made  his  acquaintance ; which  was  but  a 
moment,  however,  for  every  dog  of  a generous 
strain  can  tell  instinctively  when  a friend  of  his 
kind  approaches  him. 

Among  others  of  the  canine  crew,  too,  there  was 
a fine  spaniel,  whose  deplorable  fate  subsequently 
I may  as  well  mention  here  as  elsewhere.  The 
master  of  poor  Dash,  it  seems,  went  ashore  during 
the  night  at  Huron,  where  the  boat  put  in  to  land 
way-passengers ; and  the  animal,  springing  eagerly 
along  a plank  at  his  call,  was  kicked  from  his  narrow 
foothold  by  some  brute  of  a fellow  into  the  lake. 
The  night  was  dark,  and  the  shadow  of  the  high 
wharf  shut  out  the  few  lights  on  shore  from  the 
view  of  the  poor  animal,  while  those  on  board  of 

h 2 


90 


EMIGRANT  PASSENGERS. 


the  boat  led  him  away  from  the  land.  He  swam 
after  us,  yelling  most  piteously,  until  his  suffocating 
cries  were  lost  in  the  freshening  sea,  which  proba- 
bly the  next  morning  tossed  him  a carrion  on  the 
shore.  Had  I witnessed  the  act  of  throwing  him 
overboard,  I could  scarcely  have  restrained  myself 
from  pitching  the  dastardly  perpetrator  of  the  cruelty 
after  the  victim  of  his  brutality  : for  if  there  be  one 
trait  in  men  which  awakens  in  me  indignation 
amounting  almost  to  loathing  of  my  kind,  it  is  to  see 
human  beings  treating  those  parts  of  the  animal 
creation  beneath  them  as  if  this  earth  was  meant 
for  none  of  God’s  creatures  but  man. 

But  to  return  to  our  travels  through  this  floating 
castle.  We  next  ascended  a steep  stairway  to  the 
upper  deck  of  all,  and  I here  spent  some  moments 
rather  amusingly  in  surveying  the  furniture  of  the 
emigrants  with  which  it  was  crowded.  They  dif- 
fered according  to  the  origin  of  their  owner.  The 
effects  of  the  Yankee  were  generally  limited  [to  a 
Dearborn  wagon,  a feather  bed,  a saddle  and  bridle, 
and  some  knick-knack  in  the  way  of  a machine  for 
shelling  corn,  hatch  elling  flax,  or,  for  aught  I know, 
manufacturing  wooden  nutmegs  for  family  use. 
Those  of  the  Englishman  are  far  more  numerous ; 
for  John  Bull,  when  he  wanders  from  home,  would 
not  only,  like  the  roving  Trojan,  carry  his  house- 
hold gods  with  him  into  strange  lands,  but  even  the 
fast  anchored  isle  itself,  could  he  but  cut  it  from  its 
moorings.  Whenever,  therefore,  you  see  an  antique- 
fashioned  looking-glass,  a decrepit  bureau,  and  some 


FAMILY  RELICS* 


91 


tenderly-preserved  old  china,  you  will  probably, 
upon  looking  further,  have  the  whole  housekeeping 
array  of  an  honest  Briton  exposed  to  your  view. 

But  still  farther  do  the  Swiss  and  Germans  carry 
their  love  of  family  relics.  Mark  that  quaint  look- 
ing wagon  which  lumbers  up  a dozen  square  feet 
of  the  deck  : you  may  see  a portrait  of  it  among  the 
illuminated  letters  of  a vellum-bound  edition  of 
Virgil’s  Bucolics.  It  was  taken  from  an  Helvetian 
ancestor  that  transported  Caesar’s  baggage  into  win- 
ter quarters.  It  might  be  worth  something  in  a 
museum,  but  it  has  cost  five  times  its  value  in 
freight  to  transport  it  over  the  Atlantic.  What  an 
indignity  it  is  to  overwhelm  the  triumphal  chariot 
with  the  beds  and  ploughs,  shovels,  saddles,  and 
sideboards,  chairs,  clocks,  and  carpets  that  fill  its 
interior,  and  to  hang  those  rusty  pots  and  kettles, 
bakepans,  fryingpans,  and  saucepans,  iron  candle- 
sticks, old  horse-shoes,  and  broken  tobacco-pipes, 
like  trophies  of  conquest  over  Time,  along  its 
racked  and  wheezing  sides.  That  short  man  yon- 
der, with  square  shoulders  and  a crooked  pipe  in  his 
mouth,  is  the  owner;  he  with  the  woollen  cap,  that 
is  just  raising  his  blue  cotton  frock  to  thrust  his 
hand  into  the  fob  of  hi^  sherrivalleys.  That  man 
had  probably  not  the  slightest  idea  of  the  kind  of 
country  he  was  coming  to : his  eyes  are  but  now 
just  opening  to  his  new  condition;  nor  will  he  sacri- 
fice a particle  of  his  useless  and  expensive  trumpery 
until  they  are  completely  open.  That  man  has  not 
yet  a thought  in  common  wdth  the  people  of  his 
new  abode  around  him.  He  looks,  indeed,  as  if  he 


92 


STEAMERS. 


came  from  another  planet.  Visit  him  on  his  thriving 
farm  ten  years  hence,  and,  except  in  the  single  point 
of  language,  you  will  find  him  (unless  perchance  he 
has  settled  among  a nest  of  his  countrymen)  at 
home  among  his  neighbours,  and  happily  conform- 
ing to  their  usages ; while  that  clean  looking  Eng- 
lishman next  to  him  will  still  be  a stranger  in  the 
land. 

I subsequently  looked  into  the  different  cabins 
and  compartments  of  the  boat  not  yet  visited,  and 
had  reason  to  be  gratified  with  the  appearance  of 
all ; though  the  steamboat  Michigan,  which  I have 
since  visited  at  the  docks  here,  puts  me  completely 
out  of  conceit  of  every  part  of  the  New-York,  ex- 
cept her  captain.  The  Michigan,  machinery  and 
all,  was  built  at  Detroit ; and,  without  entering  into 
a minute  description  of  it,  I may  say  that,  fine  as 
our  Atlantic  boats  are,  I do  not  recollect  any  on  the 
Atlantic  waters,  for  strength  and  beauty  united, 
equal  to  this.  A great  mistake,  however,  I think, 
exists  here  in  building  the  boats  for  these  waters 
with  cabins  on  deck,  like  the  river  boats.  In  con- 
sequence of  such  a large  part  of  the  hull  being 
above  water,  they  are  rendered  dangerous  during 
the  tremendous  gales  which  sweep  Lake  Erie,  and 
are  often  compelled  to  make  a port  of  safety 
several  times  during  a passage.  The  English 
steamers  which  ply  between  Dover  and  Calais  are 
built  like  other  sea  vessels ; and  having  their  ma- 
chinery below,  can  consequently  keep  on  their 
course  in  a sea  where  one  of  ours  would  live  but  a 
few  minutes.  I was  fortunate,  considering  the 


DETROIT  RIVER. 


93 


stormy  season  of  the  year,  in  having  a tolerably 
smooth  passage  across  the  lake  ; there  being  but 
few  persons  seasick  on  board  of  the  boat,  and  I 
happily  not  included  in  the  number.  But  it  must 
be  very  unpleasant,  during  a heavy  blow,  to  be 
tossed  on  the  short  cobble  sea  which  the  light 
fresh  water  of  these  lakes  always  break  into  be- 
neath the  wind. 

We  passed  a number  of  islands  in  the  morning 
soon  after  breakfast ; some  of  them  mere  rocks, 
and  others  several  miles  in  circumference.  On 
one  of  these,  of  a few  acres  in  extent,  a row-boat, 
in  wThich  a man  undertook  to  transport  himself  and 
one  or  two  members  of  his  family  to  the  shore, 
was  wrecked  some  years  since.  The  father  and 
brother,  with  a daughter  of  about  twelve  years, 
managed  to  subsist  upon  the  snakes  and  snails 
they  found  among  the  rocks,  until  a passing  ves- 
sel took  them  off,  after  some  ten  days  of  suffering. 

It  was  during  a shower,  shortly  after  noon,  when 
some  low  wooded  islands  on  the  American  side  of 
the  lake,  with  a tall  flag- staff  peering  above  the 
haze  from  the  little  town  of  Amherstburg  on  the 
British  shore,  indicated  that  we  had  entered  the 
mouth  of  the  Detroit  River.  The  wind,  which 
was  now  beginning  to  rise  into  a thfftitening  tem- 
pest, compelled  us  to  hug  the  Canadian  shore  so 
closely,  that  the  red  coated  sentinel  pacing  along 
the  barracks  above  Fort  Malden  was  plainly  seen 
from  the  boat.  The  river  soon  after  narrows  suf- 
ficiently for  one  to  mark  with  ease  the  general  ap- 
pearance of  its  banks,  and  the  different  settlements 


94 


CITY  OF  DETROIT* 


upon  their  course.  Their  appearance  must  be 
pretty  in  summer,  when  fields  and  woods  show  to 
the  most  advantage ; but  now,  though  slightly 
undulating,  with  a sudden  rise  from  the  river  of 
some  fifty  or  sixty  feet,  the  adjacent  country  is  too 
low  to  be  strikingly  beautiful.  Those,  however, 
who  admire  the  Delaware  below  Trenton,  if  they 
can  dispense  with  the  handsome  seats  which  orna- 
ment its  not  very  clear  waters,  may  find  a charm 
in  the  gentle  banks  and  transparent  tide  of  the 
Detroit  River. 

The  City  of  Detroit  itself  stands  upon  an  ele- 
vated piece  of  table  land,  extending  probably  for 
some  twenty  miles  back  from  the  river,  and  being 
perfectly  unbroken  for  at  least  two  miles  along  its 
margin.  Beneath  the  bluff — for  the  plain  is  so 
high  as  almost  to  deserve  the  name — is  a narrow 
bustling  street  of  about  half  a mile  in  length,  with 
the  wharfs  just  beyond  it ; and  fifty  yards  inboard 
runs  a spacious  street  called  Jefferson  Avenue, 
parallel  with  the  lower  street  and  the  river;  the 
chief  part  of  the  town  extends  for  a mile  or  two 
along  the  latter.  The  dwelling  houses  are  gen- 
erally of  wood ; but  there  are  a great  many  stores 
now  building,  or  already  erected,  of  brick,  with 
stone  basemffcts.  The  brick  is  generally  of  an  in- 
different quality ; but  the  stone,  which  is  brought 
from  Cleaveland,  Ohio,  is  a remarkably  fine  ma- 
terial for  building  purposes.  It  is  a kind  of  yellow 
freestone,  which  is  easily  worked  when  first  taken 
from  the  quarry,  and  hardens  subsequently  upon 
exposure  to  the  air.  There  are  at  this  moment 


PUBLIC  BUILDINGS. 


95 


many  four-story  stores  erecting,  as  well  as  other 
substantial  buildings,  which  speak  for  the  flourish- 
ing condition  of  the  place. 

The  want  of  mechanics  is  so  great,  however,  that 
it  is  difficult  as  yet  to  carry  on  these  operations 
upon  the  scale  common  in  our  Atlantic  cities ; al- 
though the  demand  for  houses  in  Detroit,  it  is  said, 
would  fully  warrant  similar  outlays  of  capital.  The 
public  buildings  are  the  territorial  council-house, 
situated  upon  an  open  piece  of  ground,  designated 
on  an  engraved  plan  of  the  city  as  The  Campus 
Martius ; a court-house,  academy,  and  two  banks. 
There  are  also  five  churches, — a Catholic,  an  Epis- 
copal, a Presbyterian,  Baptist,  and  Methodist.  The 
Catholic  congregation  is  the  largest ; their  stone 
church,  after  remaining  several  years  in  an  unfin- 
ished state,  is  soon,  it  is  said,  to  be  completed  with 
funds  derived  from  Rome ; it  will  make  an  imposing 
appearance  when  finished.  The  population  of  De- 
troit is,  I believe,  between  three  and  four  thousand; 
it  increases  so  rapidfy,  however,  that  it  is  difficult 
to  form  an  estimate.  The  historical  associations, 
the  safety  and  commodiousness  of  the  harbour,  with 
its  extensive  inland  commercial  advantages,  must 
ever  constitute  this  one  of  the  most  interesting  and 
important  points  in  the  Union,  although  other  causes 
may  combine  to  make  newer  places  in  the  territory 
equally  as  flourishing  as  Detroit. 

The  appearance  of  the  place  is  anything  but 
what  you  would  expect  from  a town  founded  in  the 
same  year  with  Philadelphia.  The  ancient  houses, 
which  formerly  stood  upon  streets  hardly  ten  feet 


96 


MILITARY  REMAINS. 


wide,  were  all  swept  away  in  the  great  fire  twenty 
years  since  ; and  the  new  white  dwellings,  standing 
upon  broad  avenues  of  twenty-five  yards,  make  the 
town  look  like  a place  of  yesterday. 

I am  surprised  to  find  but  few  military  remains 
in  a frontier  post  so  frequently  fortified,  and  which 
has  witnessed  so  many  scenes  of  border  war.  A 
small  stone  arsenal,  with  a tall  picket-fence  around 
it,  is  the  only  thing  of  the  kind  discoverable ; and 
yet  the  place  is  thought  by  military  men  to  have 
been  sufficiently  strong  during  the  last  war  to  have 
held  out,  if  properly  commanded,  against  twice  the 
force  which  the  brave  general  Brock  brought  against 
it.  The  lapse  of  twenty-two  years  has  not  yet  cool- 
ed the  indignation  of  the  inhabitants  at  its  dastardly 
surrender  by  Hull.  It  is  necessary  to  see  the 
ground  to  estimate  properly  that  besotted  act,  at 
which  his  officers  broke  their  swords,  and  his  men 
nearly  rose  in  open  mutiny ; while  even  the  women 
of  the  fort  shut  the  gates,  and  declared  that  their 
husbands  and  brothers  should  not  abide  by  the  dis- 
graceful orders  of  their  commander.  It  is  astound- 
ing to  think  how  slight  an  exertion  of  force  might 
have  annihilated  the  attacking  party.  They  landed 
about  two  miles  below  the  town,  and  advanced  in 
solid  column  along  a straight  road,  which  runs  pa- 
rallel with  the  river,  and  is  Availed  inland  with  a 
high  picket-fence,  in  front  of  the  French  farm  houses 
Avhich  line  the  way.  At  the  entrance  of  the  town, 
and  nearly  in  front  of  the  hotel  where  I am  staying, 
were  planted  two  pieces  of  cannon  loaded  with 
grape  and  canister.  A single  discharge  must  have 


A CONVERSATION. 


97 


swept  half  of  the  British  force  into  eternity ; while 
the  river  on  one  side,  and  the  high  picket  on  the 
other,  would  have  hedged  the  remainder  in  upon  a 
spot  where  the  destruction  of  the  whole  would  have 
been  inevitable.  The  artillerymen  were  standing 
with  lighted  portfires,  when  the  order  to  retire  within 
the  fort  caused  them  to  fling  their  matches  to  the 
ground,  and  leave  it  with  disgust.  The  memory 
of  General  Hull,  which,  with  that  love  of  glorifica- 
tion that  constitutes  the  weakest  point  of  our  na- 
tional character,  was  so  hallowed  in  the  eastern 
newspapers  when  he  died,  a few  years  since,  is 
here  held  in  the  contempt  that  was  the  due  of  a man 
who  was  sentenced  to  be  shot  to  death  for  conduct 
entailing  so  much  disgrace  upon  the  nation. 

I was  not  a little  amused,  w hile  talking  over  these 
events  with  some  gentlemen,  a few  evenings  since, 
upon  the  very  scene  of  contention,  to  hear  a person, 
whom  I soon  discovered  to  be  an  Englishman,  sliding 
into  the  conversation,  and  taking  his  part  of  it  with 
equal  animation  and  good  feeling,  upholding,  how- 
ever, like  a loyal  and  true  Briton,  the  acts  of  his  own 
nation.  The  conversation  was  very  frank  on  both 
sides  ; although,  when  he  spoke  of  the  Kentuckians 
flaying  the  body  of  Tecumseh  after  the  battle  of  the 
Thames,  I could  not  trust  myself  to  retaliate  by 
mentioning  Proctor’s  massacre. at  Frenchtown  of  the 
flower  of  the  youth  of  Kentucky,  which,  as  you 
know,  prompted  this  ferocious  act  of  their  country- 
men in  relation  to  the  fierce  but  noble  savage.  The 
ball  of  conversation,  which  had  hitherto  been  thrown 
with  equal  temper  and  breeding  by  better  and  abler 

VOL.  i. — i 


98 


AN  ADVENTURE. 


hands,  fell  into  mine,  just  as  “ the  delicate  question 
of  impressment”  was  suggested  by  the  English 
stranger;  and  in  begging  him  to  dismiss  a matter 
upon  which  our  views  could  so  little  harmonize,  I 
could  not  help  adding  the  opinion  you  have  often 
heard  me  express,  though  of  course  in  a manner  that 
conveyed  nothing  offensive,  that  my  country  should 
never  notice  the  existence  of  that  national  difficulty 
except  through  the  mouths  of  our  cannon ; that  is, 
that  we  should  regard  and  treat  impressment  like 
piracy  or  kidnapping  on  the  highway.  “ Kidnap- 
ping !”  exclaimed  my  well-bred  antagonist,  smiling 
jocosely  at  the  word,  and  politely  waiving  the  fur- 
ther discussion  of  the  subject,  “’why,  I myself,  sir, 
have  been  taken  up  for  kidnapping  within  the  very 
precinct's  of  this  town.”  He  then  went  on  to  tell, 
in  quite  dramatic  style,  a series  of  whimsical  adven- 
tures which  he  met  with  when  on  a surveying  party 
on  the  lakes  just  after  the  last  war.  “Surveying 
on  the  lakes  twenty  years  ago!”  exclaimed  I to  my- 
self; “why,  who  can  this  man  be?  I have  already 
travelled  with  him,  since  tea,  over  all  Europe  and  a 
great  pait  of  Asia,  not  to  mention  the  West  Indies 
and  South  America,  with  the  whole  coast  of  Africa.” 
The  lively  and  unaffected  relation  was  every  thing 
to  the  story,  which  at  once  enlisted  the  attention  of 
all  present,  but  the  particulars  were  barely  these  : 
— The  stranger,  then  a subaltern  in  the  British 
service,  was  sent  by  his  commanding  officer  to 
seize  some  deserters,  who  had  escaped  by  night 
from  the  schooner  in  which  the  surveying  party 
were  embarked,  and  which  was  anchored  in  the 


AN  ADVENTURE. 


99 


Detroit  River.  He  landed  on  the  American  shore, 
and  tracing  one  of  the  knaves  to  an  inn  hard  by,  he 
seized  him  near  the  door,  handcuffed  him,  and 
handed  him  to  his  men  to  take  off  to  their  boat  in 
waiting.  Then  entering  the  inn,  the  sight  of  a 
number  of  articles  stolen  by  the  runaways  induced 
the  young  officer  to  search  for  the  rest  of  their  num- 
ber. Provoked  at  his  want-  of  success,  he  very 
naturally  exclaimed,  while  passing  vainly  from 
room  to  room,  “ Well,  thank  Heaven,  I have  one  of 
the  rascals  in  limbo !”  A stout  looking  fellow 
present  immediately  slid  out  of  the  apartment. 
The  young  Englishman,  tired  at  last  with  his 
search  of  the  premises,  determined  to  leave  the 
house  to  look  further  elsewhere.  *His  foot  was  on 
the  threshold  of  the  door — “ Stop  there,  you  mister,” 
exclaimed  a tall  Yankee,  bringing  a bayonet  to  a 
charge  at  his  breast,  “you  don’t  come  here  and 
kidnap  our  citizens  at  that  rate,  I guess.” 

“ Kidnap  your  citizens  ! Why,  my  good  felfow, 
that  was  a rascally  deserter  that  I apprehended.” 

“ Deserter  or  no  deserter,  we  don’t  want  no  such 
doings  over  our  side ; and  you  don’t  budge  from 
here,  my  hearty,  except,  to  go  before  Governor 
Cass.” 

* 

“ Governor  Cass  ! Why,  my  dear  sir,  I have  a 
letter  here  for  Governor  Cass,  and  am  anxious  to 
find  him  out  in  person.” 

It  was  “ no  go,”  however,  as  the  sturdy  yeoman 
said,  and  he  and  his  comrades  at  once  led  our  young 
and  hasty  adventurer  to  the  residence  of  the  gover- 
nor. Detroit  was  then  a military  post  of  the  first 


100 


AN  ADVENTURE. 


distinction.  The  town  was  crowded  with  officers 
and  their  families  ; and  on  that  very  day  there  was 
a levee,  at  which  three  general  officers  with  their 
respective  suits  received  company  at  the  gover- 
* nor’s.  The  culprit  was  politely  received  by  the 
governor,  and  being  soon  drawn  within  a group  of 
officers,  they  all  heartily  sympathized  with  him, 
and  agreed  that  they  might,  without  thinking,  have 
acted  similarly  in  violating  a foreign  territory  when 
sent  after  “ a scoundrel  of  a deserter.”  It  was,  in 
short,  a mere  matter  of  moonshine,  and  the  young 
offender  need  give  himself  no  concern  about  it, 'but 
fill  his  glass,  and  let  the  hour  bring  forth  what  it 
might.  To  make  a long  story  short,  however,  our 
subaltern  was'  s*>on  ordered  before  the  governor, 
who  in  a totally  altered  manner  explained  the  grave 
nature  of  his  offence  to  him,  and  told  him  he  must 
be  handed  over  to  the  civil  authority ; adding,  that 
if  he  did  not  like  to  go  to  jail,  he  might  take  up  his 
residence  in  the  fort,  under  the  care  of  Captain 
O’Fallon,  whose  politeness  the  English  gentleman 
had  already  experienced,  and  under  whose  custody 
he  was  glad  to  place  himself.  His  stay  there  he 
found  far  from  disagreeable,  and  he  spoke  with 
warmth  of  the  courtesy  of  the  officers  in  walking 
out  with  him  every  day,  and  keeping-  up  their 
necessary  surveillance  over  his  person  in  a manner 
that  made  it  not  at  all  unpleasant.  The  grand  jury 
soon  after  found  a bill  against  him  for  “ the  crime 
of  kidnapping  an  American  citizen,  name  un- 
known /”  and  he  was  held  to  bail  in  the  sum  of 
2,000  dollars,  which  was  at  once  forthcoming  from 


AN  ADVENTURE. 


101 


a gentleman  on  the  Canadian  side.  The  result  of 
the  trial  was  against  the  prisoner;  but  a higher 
tribunal  subsequently  quashed  the  proceedings  of 
'the  court,  and  set  the  culprit  at  liberty. 

This  relation,  the  particulars  of  which  I have 
since  found  are  familiar  to  the  older  residents  of 
Detroit,  seemed,  from  the  unaffected  yet  animated 
manner  in  which  it  was  made,  to  strike  every  one 
present ; and,  as  you  may  imagine,  our  interest  in 
the  party  chiefly  concerned  was  not  a little-  height- 
ened by  our  discovering,  the  next  morning,  that  the 
individual  who  had  made  himself  so  agreeable  the 

evening  before  wras  Captain  V- , of  the  British 

navy,  whose  enviable  reputation,  as  the  compa- 
nion of  Captain  Owen  in  his  recent  arduous  voyage 
of  discovery  along  the  coast  of  Africa,  gives  one  the 
privilege  of  mentioning  his  name  as  that  of  a pub- 
lic man.  Captain  V has  just  settled  on  a farm 

on  the  Canada  side,  but  so  near  to  Detroit  that  his 
society  will  be  an  acquisition  to  a neighbourhood 
remarkable  for  its  agreeableness  and  elegant  hospi- 
tality. 

I • have  made  several  excursions  to  different 
places  in  the  vicinity  of  Detroit.  The  pleasantest 
ride,  perhaps,  is  one  along  the  river  on  the  Canada 
side,  from  which  Detroit  appears  ’to  great  ad- 
vantage. Every  thing  looks  dead,  however,  in 
William  IV.’s  dominions,  after  coming  from  the 
bustling  American  town.  The  French  there  insist 
upon  holding  on  to  their  acres ; and  being  unwill- 
ing to  improve  their  property,  its  value  remains 
stationary.  These  French  tenures  have  had  their 

i 2 


102 


CHARACTERS  OP  THE  FRENCH, 


effect,  loo,  in  retarding  the  growth  of  Detroit,  and 
they  still  check  in  no  slight  degree  its  advances  in 
prosperity.  .The  French  farms  are  laid  out  along 
the  river  on  both  sides,  with  a front  of  only  two  or 
three  acres  on  its  bank,  while  they  extend  back 
into  the  country  for  half  a dozen  miles  ; a disposi- 
tion of  property  very  unfavourable  to  agriculture, 
and  only  adopted  originally  to  bring  the  colonists 
as  near  together  as  possible,  for  the  sake  of  mutual 
protection  against  the  Indians.  Many  of  these 
farms  now  cross  the  main  street  of  Detroit  at  right 
angles  at  the  upper  end  of  the  town,  and,  of  course, 
offer  on  either  side  a dozen  building  lots  of  great 
value.  The  original  owners,  however,  persist 
in  occupying  them. with  their  frail  wooden  tene- 
ments and  almost'valueless  improvements,  notwith- 
standing large  sums  are  continually  offered  for  the 
merest  slice  in  the  world  off  the  end  of  their  long 
tailed  patrimonies.  They  are  a singular  race  of 
beings  altogether.  Mild  and  amiable,  with  all  that 
politeness  of  manners  which  distinguishes  every 
class  of  the  courteous  nation  from  which  they 
derived  their  origin — they  are  still  said  to  be -pro- 
foundly ignorant.  They  call  Detroit  “ the  Fort” 
to  this  day,  and  yet  few  of  them  know  anything  of 
the  country  * whose  soldiers  first  held  it.  They 
are  good  gardeners,  but  very  indifferent  farmers ; 
and  their  highest  ambition  is  to  turn  out  the  fastest 
trotting  pony  when  the  carriole  races  commence 
on  the  ice  at  mid-winter.  Some  of  them  will  own 
a hundred  of  these  ponies,  which  in  defiance  of 
snow  and  sun,  run  in  the  woods  from  one  end  of 


HORSES, 


103 


the  year  to  the  other.  The  fastest  of  the  herd, 
which  is  generally  a three-minute  horse,  the  owner 
will  keep  for. himself,  or,  if  he  parts  with  him,  asks 
the  purchaser  two  or  three  hundred  dollars  for 
the  animal ; while  from  the  rest,  for  twenty-five  or 
thirty,  he  may  select  at  pleasure.  They  are  very 
easy  gaited  animals,  carrying  astonishing  weights 
with  ease ; but  their  shoulders  are  so  low  it  is 
difficult  to  keep  an  ordinary  saddle  on  their  backs 
with  any  comfort.  But  though  generally  rough,, 
misshapen  looking  creatures,  some  are  very  ele- 
gantly formed,  and  remind  me  often — while  nei- 
ther resembling  the  Arabian  nor  the  English  horse 
— of  some  French  drawings  I have  seen  of  the 
spirited  steeds  of  the  Balkan,  or  the  rushing 
coursers  of  the  Ukraine.  I am  informed  that  they 
are  known  to  perform  journeys  under  the  saddle 
of  sixty  miles  a day  for  ten  days  in  succession, 
without  being  at  all  injured  by  it.  They  are 
thought  to  have  a different  origin  from  the  Cana- 
dian horse,  to  which  the  best  of  them  bears  no  par- 
ticular resemblance  except  in  size. 

With  judicious  crossing,  a most  valuable  race  of 
horses  might  be  produced  from,  this  hardy  stock, 
which,  for  their  vigour  and  endurance,  I can  only 
compare  to  the  tough  wild  thorn  of  the  country ; 
an  unpromising  shrub,  which,,  when  grafted  upon, 
produces  the  most  flourishing  fruit  trees  I have  ever 
seen. 

The  drive  to  Lake  St.  Clair  must  be  very  plea- 
sant in  summer,  judging  from  what  I saw  of  it 
during  a raw  snowy  day.  The  banks  of  this  river 


104 


NEW  AkSENAL. 


are  indeed  rather  low  for  beauty,  and  the  lake  it- 
self, when  you  arrive  at  it,  is  only  a large  black 
sheet  of  clear  water;  but  thick-set  orchards  of  the 
French  farmers,  .coming  quite  down  to  the  shore 
of  the  river,  are  pleasing  objects  in  themselves, 
and  with  the  green  islands  in  the  strait,  the  decay- 
ing windmills  so  frequently  recurring  along  its 
shores,  and  the  groups  of  shaggy  ponies  almost 
invariably  around  their  base,  would  enable  a 
painter  to  eke  out  a very  pretty  landscape. 

About  ten  miles  from  Detroit,  a United  States 
arsenal  is  now  erecting,  under  the  superintendence 
of  Lieutenant  Howard,  of  the  army;  for  an  in- 
troduction to  whom  I was  indebted  to  two  young 
officers,  who  rode  out  with  me  to  visit  the  place. 
The  day  was  cold  and  cloudy,  like  most  it  has 
been  my  lot  to  describe  to  you  of  late;  but  my 
companions  were  intelligent  and  agreeable,  my 
horse  free  and  sufficiently  fast,  and  my  reception 
at  the  end  so  satisfactory,  that  I still  think  of  my 
ride  along  the  lazy  banks  of  the  bilious-looking 
River  Rouge  with  pleasure.  The  arsenal,  though 
of  brick,  is  by  far  the  best  specimen  of  masonry  I 
have  yet  seen  here.  It  is  to  be  regretted,  How 
ever,  that  for  such  a national  work  the -appropria- 
tion by  government  for  its  erection  had  not  been 
large  enough  to  have  permitted  the  beautiful 
Cleaveland  stone,  which  form  the  lintels  of  its 
doors  and  windows,  to  be  substituted  for  the  per- 
ishable looking  material  of  which  the  building  is 
now  constructed.  The  taste  of  Lieutenant  H., 
which  is  already  evinced  by  some  arrangements  in 


NEW  ARSENAL, 


105 


the  vicinity,  will  no  doubt  induce  him  to  preserve 
some  hoary  and  fantastic  looking  oaks,  which  fling 
their  gnarled  branches  within  a few  yards  of  the 
walls,  and  which  even  now,  stripped  as  they  are  of 
their  foliage,  are  worth  a whole  forest  of  common 
ornamental  shrubbery.  The  trees  I have  generally 
seen  around  our  military  posts  look  all  as  straight 
and  martinet  like  as  if  planted  by  a drill  sergeant. 
These  veteran  oaks  stand  upon  a sloping  bank, 
and  as  they  are  too  crooked  ever  to  catch  the  eye 
of  the  utilitarian,  and  be  sawn  up  into  boards,  they 
may,  if  not  now  molested,  wave  yet  for  a century 
above  these  ingenious  idlers  who  delight  to — 

lt under  the  shade  of  melancholy,  boughs, 

Lose  and  neglect  the  creeping  hours  of  time.” 

Too  much  praise  can  hardly  be  accorded  to  the 
activity  of  the  officer,  who,  in  five  months,  has  rear- 
ed such  a building,,  and  created  the  village,  which 
is  already  growing  up  around  it,  in  the  midst  of  an 
unbroken  forest.  There  is  a capital  inn,  a store, 
and  two  or  three  dwellings  in  the  new  town  of 
“ Dearbornville,”  all  built  since  last  July.  I sat 
down  to  dine  on  a fine  haunch  of  venison,  with  the 

veteran  General  B and  his  young  aid,  who 

were  together  on  a hunting  expedition  in  the  vicinity. 
Nothing  could  have  .impressed  a stranger  more 
favourably'with  military  breeding,  than  the  bland, 
paternal  manner  of  the  gentlemanlike  old  officer  to 
his  four  juniors  present.  The  deer  yet  abound 
within  a morning’s  walk  of  Detroit;  the  primitive 
forest  standing  untouched  within  a few  hundred 


106 


THE  HURON  RIVER. 


yards  of  the  town,  immediately  in  its  rear.  They 
are  hunted  daily  at  this  season ; and  no  slight  sen- 
sation was  made  here,  .a  day  or  two  since,  by  the 
prolonged  absence  of  the  general,  who  had  been 
benighted  and  lost  his  way  upon  one  of  these  short 
excursions.  The  town  was  about  to  turn  out*  en 
masse , when  the  re-appearance  of  the  hunter,  after 
two  days’  absence,  relieved  a very  general  anxiety. 

The  tedious  length  of  this  letter  is  sufficient  apo- 
logy for  the  abruptness  with  which  I must  break  offi 


LETTER  IX. 

» • _ 7 

The  Huron  River — Village  of  Monroe — New  Bank — Position  of 
Monroe — Public  Improvements — A Launch — Tecumseh — A Mas- 
sacre— Anecdote — The  Diana — The  River  Raisin— Canals  and 
Railroads — Public  Projects — Garden  of  the  Union. 

Monroe,  Michigan,  Dec.  3,  1833. 

The  drive  from  Detroit  hither  is  dull  enough  at 
this  season  of  the  year.  The  road  leads  through 
almost  a dead  level,  and  the  muddy  streams  creep 
over  the  fat  black  soil,  as  if  they  had  gormandized 
upon  its  rich  vegetation  till  grown  too  lazy  for  loco- 
motion. Among  others,  the  Huron  river,  from 
which,  seeing  that  it  rises  in  one  of  the  brightest  and 
most  beautiful  lakes  in  the  peninsula,  better  things 
might  be  expected,  waddles  on  to  the  lake,  as  little 
excited  by  the  flocks  of  ducks  which  frolic  on  its 


VILLAGE  OF  MONROE. 


107 


bosom,  as  an  alderman  after  dinner  by  the  flies  that 
disport  upon  his  jerkin.  Occasionally,  indeed,  some 
bright  little  rill  will  ripple  across  the  road,  and  smirk 
over  its  yellow  pebbles  on  its  way  to  the  big  lake, 
with  much  the  same  air  that  the  mill-stieams  of 
Long  Island  dance  o'ver  the ‘level  ground  while  hur- 
rying to  the  sea ; . but  a wet  prairie  soon  intervenes, 
and  the  innocent  rivulet,  like  a child  that  is  snub- 
bed, becomes  at  once  silent  and  sulky.  But  though 
some  parts  of  Wayne  county  are  thus  unattractive, 
I am  told  that  other  sections  contain  much  arable 
land  of  excellent  quality,  consisting  of  sand  loam 
and  some  clay,  with  heavy  timber,  and  occasionally 
fine  bottoms  along  the  streams.  The  population  is 
about  eight  thousand. 

The  village  of  Monroe,  in  the  county  of  the  same 
name,  from  which  I now  write,  is  situated  on  the 
banks  of  the  River  Raisin,  and  about  two  miles  from 
its  entrance  into  Lake  Erie.  It  was  incorporated 
two  years  since,  and  comprises  a part  of  the  old  site 
of  Frenchtown,  celebrated,  as  you  remember,  in  the 
annals  of  the  last  war.  The  place  is  said  to  be 
regularly  laid  out ; but  the  most  business  part  of  it 
— and  it  is  the  fussiest  little  town  in  the  world — 
looks  as  if  the  buildings  had  all  been  tossed  from 
the  other  side  of  the  river,  and  left  to  settle  just 
where  they  might  fall  upon  this.  If  the  place  con- 
tinues to  increase  as  rapidly,  however,  as  it  has 
during  the  last  year — the  population  having  doubled 
in  that  time — the  inhabitants  can  afford  to  burn 
down  the  river  side  of  the  village,  and  arrange  it  to 
more  advantage.  There  are  now  about  one  hun- 


108 


NEW  BANK* 


dred  and  fifty  houses,  of  which  twenty  or  thirty  are 
stone  ; some  of  them  are  wholesale  establishments, 
and  . make  a very  handsome  display  of  fancy  goods. 
There  are  also  two  grist-mills  immediately  in  the 
town,  a woollen  factory,  an  iron  foundry,  several 
saw-mills,  a chair  factory,  a tannery,  &c.  And  yet, 
notwithstanding  the  supply  of  water-power  affords 
every  facility  for  the  use  of  machinery,  the  demand 
for  manual  labour -is  very  great,  and  mechanics  of 
every  kind  may  here,  as  in  Detroit,  find  constant 
employment.  Indeed,  I am  told,  that  the  demand 
for  mechanics  in  every  part  of  Michigan  is  exces- 
sive ; and  as  for  labourers,  I have  seen  them  re- 
peatedly advertised  for,  by  written  notices  on  tavern 
doors  and  elsewhere.  The  emigrants  to  the  terri- 
tory, I find,  are  generally  people  of  a very  respect- 
able class,  who  have  both  the  disposition  and  the 
means  to  employ  the  services  of  others  around 
them. 

The  “Bank  of  the  River  Raisin”  is  established 
at  this  place,  with  a capital  of  100,000  dollars  ; and 
though  in  its  infancy,  is  said  to  be  doing  a very 
flourishing  business.  The  notes  are  among  the 
handsomest  specimens  of  bank-note  engraving  I 
have  seen.  There  is  also  a land-office  established 
here,  at  which  the  sales  of  public  lands  since  last 
April  amount  to  upwards  of  22,000  dollars ; the  sales 
at  Detroit  and  White  Pigeon  together  a little  ex- 
ceeding this  sum.  The  government  price  of  land 
(LOO  dollars  for  eighty  acres,)  being  the  same  in 
every  part  of  the  territory,  this  will  give  you  some 
idea  of  the  emigration  into  the  peninsula. 


POSITION  OF  MONROE. 


109 


% 


I must  not  forget  to  mention,  that  with  a popula- 
tion of  only  sixteen  hundred  souls,  five  religious 
denominations  are  represented  in  their  respective 
clergymen  at  Monroe ; and  that  three  of  these,  the 
Roman  Catholic,  Episcopal,  and  Presbyterian,  have 
each  a neat  church  of  their  own.  I ought  to  add 
that  a newspaper,  with  a good  circulation,  is  printed 
here. 

The  advantageous  position  of  Monroe,  situated  as 
it  is  at  the  head  of  Lake  Erie,  induced  the  govern- 
ment to  make  an  appropriation  for  improving  the 
harbour,  which,  except  that  of  Maumee,  is  the  only 
one,  at  this  part  of  [the  lake.  The  lamented  Major 
Maurice,  of  the  Engineer  Corps  (who,  you  may  re- 
member,  fell  down  and  instantly  expired  in  the  act 
of  shaking  hands  with  General  Gratiot,  at  Washing- 
ton, last  winter),  and  whom  the  inhabitants  of  this 
place  speak  of  with  the  tenderest  remembrance — 
made  minute  surveys  of  the  harbour  and  of  the  dif- 
ferent channels  of  the  river : and  the  bill  which  has 
been  at  various  times  introduced  into  Congress  for 
their  improvement  was  based  upon  his  reports.  A 
bill  was  passed  at  the  last  session  of  Congress,  ap- 
propriating 8,000  dollars  for  rebuilding  the  pier  at 
the  mouth  of  the  river,  and  also  appropriating  the 
sum  of  20,000  dollars  for  a road  from  La  Plaisance 
bay,  through  which  the  Raisin  debouches  into  Lake 
Erie,  to  intersect  the  Chicago  road,  which  traverses 
the  whole  peninsula  at  a point  about  forty  miles 
from  here ; an  improvement  which  will  open  a new 
market  to  southern  and  western  Michigan,  and  con- 
tribute of  course  much  to  the  prosperity  of  Monroe. 

VOL.  i. — K 


110 


PUBLIC  IMPROVEMENTS. 


A bill  was  also  passed  by  both  houses,  appropriating 

15.000  dollars  for  a canal  connecting  the  waters  of 
Lake  Erie,  and  the  River  Raisin,  by  a cut  across  the 
bar  at  the  mouth  of  the  latter.  The  money  has  not 
been  expended,  however,  in  consequence  of  an 
oversight  in  the  engrossing  clerk,  which,  from  his 
omitting  this  important  item,  has  prevented  the  bill 
as  yet  becoming  a law.  The  moneys  appropriated 
for  the  pier  and  road  have  already  been  mostly  ex- 
pended, and  those  public  works  are  now  nearly  com- 
pleted, under  the  active  and  efficient  superintendence 
of  Capt.  Henry  Smith,  of  the  Engineer  Corps. 
When  all  these  improvements  are  completed,  Mon- 
roe must  have  come  in  for  a large  share  of  the  im- 
mense trade  and  commerce  which  must  flow  through 
the  three  outlets  of  eastern  Michigan.  The  mouth 
of  the  Maumee  can  hardly  compete  with  it  on  ac- 
count of  the  extreme  unhealthiness  of  that  swampy 
region;  but  I am  inclined  to  think  that  the  enter- 
prising inhabitants  of  this  thriving  little  place  are 
somewhat  too  vivacious  in  their  expectations,  when 
they  think  of  not  only  rivalling,  but  outstripping,  the 
ancient  city  of  the  straits  on  the  onward  road  to 
prosperity.  Detroit,  like  every  other  point  selected 
by  the  French  on  the  western  waters  of  our  country, 
is  as  commanding  a position,  whether  for  war  or 
trade,  as  could  be  chosen. 

The  Monroeites  are,  however,  a driving  people 
in  their  way.  They  are  now  building  a steamboat 
of  the  largest  class,  which  will  cost  not  less  than 

45.000  dollars,  to  ply  directly  between  here  and 
Buffalo;  and  this  morning  I saw  launched  a beauti- 


TECUMSEH. 


Ill 


ful  schooner,  for  the  lake  navigation.  It  was  the 
first  launch  that  had  ever  taken  place  at  Monroe,  and 
the  occasion  caused  a general  turn-out  of  the  inhabi- 
tants, who  hurried  to  the  spot,  a mile  or  two  off,  upon 
horses  of  every  variety  of  appearance.  There  was 
the  bull-necked  French  pony  andhis  scraggy-looking 
Indian  cousin,  the  sleek  spongy-looking  Ohio  horse, 
and  the  clean-limbed  quickly  gathering  Kentuckian, 
galloping  between  the  swift  but  shuffling  Illinois 
pacer  and  the  high  actioned  tight  looking  New-York 
trotter.  Every  one  rode  as  if  for  a wager  ; and  when 
we  drew  our  reins,  the  talk  upon  horse-flesh  super- 
seding almost  the  interest  of  the  schooner,  showed 
that  the  Monroeites,  like  Catiline  and  Purdy,  de- 
serve to  be  celebrated  for  their  judgment  in  these 
matters.  A very  good  and  full  band  of  amateur 
musicians,  composed  of  respectable  private  indi- 
viduals of  the  village,  came  at  last  upon  the  ground, 
and  changed  the  subject  to  the  name  of  the  new 
vessel,  which  several  wished  to  alter,  before  launch- 
ing, from  the  hackneyed  one  of  Diana  to  the  more 
characteristic  sound  of  Tecumseh , the  spot  being  so 
celebrated  in  the  memoirs  of  that  great  chief.  “You 
knew  Tecumseh  then,  sir?”  said  I to  an  old  gen- 
tleman, who,  I was  informed,  had  been  a field- 
officer  during  the  late  war,  and  engaged  in  several 
battles.  “I  did,  sir;  and  he  was  as  thorough,  a 
gentleman  and  as  high-toned  an  officer  as  any'  in 
the  British  service.”  The  chief,  you  know,  actually 
held  his  commission  as  a general  officer  immedi- 
ately from  the  King  of  Britain.  “ What  do  you 
then,  sir,  think  of  his  massacre  upon  this  spot  ?”  I 


112 


A MASSACRJ3. 


rejoined.  “ The  barbarity  of  that  act,  sir,  was 
only  in  accordance  with  Indian  ideas  of  warfare. 
The  disgrace  of  it  attaches  entirely  to  the  English 
officer  (Proctor)  who  permitted,  perhaps  sanctioned, 
the  atrocity.”  The  old  officer’s  blood  seemed  to 
kindle  anew  as  he  dwelt  upon  that  horrible  slaugh- 
ter of  a force  which  had  capitulated  on  honourable 
terms  with. a full  reliance  on  the  foe  for  protection. 

I asked  him  about  the  sick  and  wounded,  who  were 
burnt  up  in  the  hospital,  or  shot  to  death  as  they 
ran  shrieking  through  the  flames.  “I  saw  their 
bones,”  he  replied,  “ when  the  ruins  were  still  re- 
cent. I came  on  with  the  corps  of  Kentuckians 
which  advanced  soon  after  into  this  country,  and 
subsequently  so  eagerly  avenged  their  countrymen 
at  the  battle  of  the  Moravian  Towns.*  I walked 
to  the  spot  where  the  wounded  met  their  fate,  with 
several  others.  Richard  M.  Johnson  was  one  of 
the  number.  We  looked  into  the  pit,  and  could  see 
the  charred  bones  and  dismembered  limbs,  and 
sometimes  half-burnt  bodies,  plainly  below.  The 
men  muttered  the  deepest  curses.  Col.  J.  spoke 
not  a word,  but  the  tears  rained  from  his  eyes  ; and 
turning  away,  he  exclaimed,  c There  lies  the  best 
blood  in  Kentucky,  poured  out  like  water!’”  I , 
have  given  as  nearly  as  I can  the  \ery  words  of  the 
veteran  colonel  in  describing  this  sad  spectacle. 

Of  the  seven  hundred  young  men  murdered  here, 

* the  most  were  students  at  law,  young  physicians, 
and  merchants,  and  the  sons  of  opulent  farmers — in 


* See  note  C. 


ANECDOTE. 


113 


short,  the  very  flower  of  Kentucky.*  The  event 
threw  the  whole  state  into  mourning. 

Speaking  of  the  troops  who  were  concerned  in 
the4  early  operations  of  these  regions,  I have  heard 
a number  of  interesting  accounts  from  different 
persons  of  the  formation  of  the  several  corps.  One 
of  these,  though  I may  very  probably,  in  trying 
to  recall  the  particulars,  confound  them  with  the 
incidents  of  another,  I will  venture  to  repeat.  A 
graduate  of  Williams  College,  Massachusetts,  who 
had  been  recently  admitted  to  the  bar,  was  riding 
through  the  state  of  Kentucky,  perhaps  with  the 
design  of  finding  some  favourable  point  at  which 
to  fix  his  abode  and  commence  the  practice  of  his 
profession,  when  he  was  accosted  near  a village  by 
a mounted  traveller,  who,  mentioning  that  he  was 
a planter  of  the  country,  invited  the  young  advo- 
cate, with  all  the  freedom  of  western  hospitality, 
to  dine  at  his  house  the  following  day.  The  invi- 
tation was  accepted ; and  the  eastern  gentleman, 
arriving  at  the  mansion  of  the  unknown  host,  found 
a large  party  collected,  the  majority  of  whom  were 
well  acquainted  with  each  other,  while  many  were 
strangers  like  himself,  and  invited  apparently  in 
the  same  manner.  The  dinner,  however,  was  got 
through  sociably  enough ; and  by  the  time  the 
glass  began  to  circulate  freely,  all  felt  that  easy 
confidence  in  the  fellowship  and  good  feeling  of 

* Since  this  was  written,  I have  met  with  a Kentucky  gentle- 
man in  Illinois,  who  had  lost  five  relations  in  the  massacre — a 
father,  two  brothers,  an  uncle,  and  a cousin — the  youngest  was 
not  seventeen. 

K 2 


114 


THE  DIANA. 


each  other  which  is  the  soul  of  good  society.  The 
host,  then  rising,  described  briefly  the  state  of  the 
north  western  frontier,  and  produced  a commission 
from  his  pocket  to  raise  a corps  and  march*  at 
once  thither.  They  enlisted  to  a man ; their 
entertainer  provided  them  on  the  spot  with  the 
necessary  stores  and  munitions  ; and  the  band  of 
volunteers  started  dn  a few  hours  on  their  march 
to  the  border. 

The  name  of  the  noble  host  was  not  mentioned; 
but  the  eastern  adventurer,  who  was  elected  a 
lieutena^j;  upon  the  spot,  and  soon  after  became  a 
captain,  was  said  to  have  been  .better  known  since 
as  colonel,  general,  governor,  and  lastly — Mr. 
Secretary  Cass. 

I regret  now  that  I did  not  inquire  into  and  note 
down  the  names  and  other  particulars  of  a relation 
so  striking;  but  you  have  the  tale  as  it  was  told  in 
my  hearing,  minus  the  admirable  manner  of  the 
relation.  But  I am  forgetting  the  Diana — that 
burst  of  music  tells  that  she  begins  to  move  on  her 
ways — calmly  now  she  slides ; and  now,  as  that 
bottle  of  champaign  foams  over  her  bow,  her  mo- 
tion increases  almost  to  the  velocity  of  a gallope. 
What  a sensation  does  she  make  among  the  waves, 
and  how  do  they  coquet  with  her  on  every  side  ! 
She  bobs  about  till  she  seems  as  unstable  as  them- 
selves. But  now  the  sober  skipper,  like  a good 
husband,  takes  possession  of  her  virgin  charms, 
and  placing  himself  at  once  at  the  helm,  the  un- 
meaning waters  cease  their  flirting,  and  sustain  her 


THE  RIVER  RAISIN, 


115 


above  them  without  daring  to  attempt  to  influence 
her  course. 

The  ride  to  these  dock  yards  is  rather  pleasant; 
but  I have  seen  handsomer  rivers  than  the  Raisin. 
The  banks  for  several  miles  around  the  village  have 
been  almost  denuded  of  trees ; and  the  limestone 
channel  lets  off  so  much  of  the  stream  through  its 
crevices,  that,  like  a tankard  of  liquor  passed 
round  according  to  custom  at  a western  inn,  it  is 
half  drunk  up  before  it  gets  to  its  real  owner,  the 
lake.  It  would  delight  an  eastern  farmer  to  see 
the  magnificent  pear  trees,  which,  tall  as  the  trees 
of  the  forests,  and  of  the  growth  of  a century,  ex- 
tend through  orchards  for  miles  along  the  stream. 
Here,  too,  are  apple  trees,  to  the  excellence  of 
whose  fruit  I can  testify,  that  were  brought  by 
the  French  to  this  country  in  1731.  The  grape 
vines,  also,  from  which  the  river  takes  its  name,  con- 
stitute a beautiful  feature  in  the  level  landscape,  as 
they  hang  in  rich  festoons  along  the  banks  of  the 
stream,  and  climb  wherever  it  is  wooded  to  the 
tops  of  the  loftiest  elms. 

There  is  now  an  application  and  great  interest 
making  to  incorporate  a company  for  the  purpose 
of  improving  the  navigation  of  the  River  Raisin 
and  the  Saline  by  a lock  and  dam  navigation — an 
improvement  which  it  is  said  can  be  made  at 
slight  expense*  The  river,  flowing  gently  in  its 
channel,  with  banks  of  equal  elevation,  seems 
ready  to  receive  and  bear  upon  its  bosom  the  rich 
products  of  the  country  on  its  borders.  By  con- 
structing a tow-path,  the  expense  of  which  will 


116 


CANALS  AND  RAILROADS. 


not  be  heavy,  an  excellent  canal  can  be  easily 
made. 

The  subject  of  canals  and  railroads  awakens  at 
this  moment  the  keenest  interest  in  Michigan;  and, 
after  the  route  of  the  projected  grand  communica- 
tion between  Lakes  Erie  and  Michigan,  through 
the  peninsula,  shall  be  determined  upon  by  the 
general  government,  I have  no  doubt  but  that  large 
and  advantageous  outlays  of  private  capital  upon 
similar  works  will  be  made  at  other  points.  Of 
the  plans  talked  of  as  best  worthy  the  attention  of 
government,  that  of  a grand  railroad  from  Chicago 
to  Detroit,  with  a lateral  one  perhaps  to  Monroe, 
seems  to  be  considered  as  the  least  chimerical; 
though  there  are  not  a few  who  advocate  a canal 
immediately  across  the  peninsula,  in  a direct  line 
from  the  mouth  of  the  Maumee  to  Lake  Michigan; 
and  still  a greater  number  who  urge  the  construc- 
tion of  one  from  the  mouth  of  the  Raisin  to  that  of 
the  St.  Joseph’s,  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  penin- 
sula— a route  which  would  pass  through  a country 
acknowledged,  I believe,  to  be  the  most  fertile  in 
Michigan.  But  another  project  still  remains,  as 
feasible,  or  perhaps  more  so,  than  either  of  these. 
It  is  to  connect  the  Washtenong  or  Grand  River — 
a noble  stream,  which  waters  half  the  territory, 
and  is  navigable  nearly  two  hundred  and  forty 
miles  in  bateaux — with  the  Huron,  a fine  stream, 
which,  after  rising  within  a few  miles  of  the  sources 
of  the  Washtenong,  empties  into  Lake  Erie,  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  peninsula.  You  can 
hardly  form  an  idea  of  the  relative  importance  and 


GARDEN  OF  THE  UNION. 


117 


feasibility  of  these  projects,  without  more  know- 
ledge of  the  territory  of  Michigan  than  is  common 
at  the  east,  where  people  generally  know  about  as 
much  of  it  as  they  do  of  Timbuctoo.  I have  al- 
ready been  so  fortunate  in  my  opportunities  of  talk- 
ing with  well-informed  people  here,  that  I might 
venture  at  once  to  give  you  a general  view  of  the 
country,  but  I prefer  that  you  should  gather  what- 
ever information  I have  to  give  from  my  own  actual 
observations  made  along  the  road.  With  regard 
to  scenery,  I do  not  think,  from  what  I have  yet 
seen,  I can  promise  you  much;  but  for  agricultural 
and  mineral  resources,  and  for  manufacturing  and 
commercial  advantages,  I think  I can  produce 
some  data  which,  if  they  do  not  astonish  our  good 
people  at  home  in  regard  to  Michigan,  will  at  least 
account  for  the  emigrants  pouring  into  the  territory 
as  they  do,  and  believing  it  to  be  the  garden  of 
the  Union.  You  must,  however,  pick  up  your 
information  as  I shall — by  jogging  along  quietly 
with  me  through  the  country,  and  observing 
matters  and  things  just  as  they*  come  beneath 
our  eyes.  To-morrow  I start  for  the  interior. 
Farewell! 


118 


A LOG  CABIN. 


LETTER  X. 

\ - • , _ • ' ''r 

A Log  Cabin — Stage-coach  Travelling— Banks  of  the  Raisin — 
Forests — A Forest  Cabin— Start  on  oar  Journey — Swapping- 
Pet  Fawns — A Canine  Mourner — Pet  Fawn— Pretty  Village — 
Cemeteries — The  Grand  River — Intelligent  Community. 

Monroe  Co.,  M.  T.,  Dec.  5, 1833. 

I write  to  you  from  a log  cabin  on  the  banks  of 
the  River  Raisin,  about  thirty  miles  above  Monroe. 
The  worthy  farmer,  upon  whose  premises  I am 
quartered  for  the  night,  sits  with  his  child  on  his 
knee  in  the  chimney-corner,  with  a prosing  visiter, 
pipe  in  mouth,  opposite ; while  the  good  woman  is 
engaged  doing  some  “ chores”  at  the  farther  end  of 
the  apartment,  which  is,  of  course,  the  chief  cook- 
ing, eating,  sitting,  sleeping,  and  smoking  chamber 
in  the  house.  My  dormitory,  I have  a shrewd  sus- 
picion, is  to  be  in  a loft,  from  which  a lad  is  at  this 
moment  descending  by  a ladder  with  some  corn  for 
my  horse.  The  black  walnut  stand,  upon  which  I 
am  writing,  occupies  the  centre  of  the  room ; and  as 
I am  at  this  moment  keeping  up  my  share  in  a 
desultory  conversation  going  forward  around  me, 
and  at  the  same  time  trying  to  check  the  undue  fa- 
miliarity of  a large  bull-dog — who,  like  other  indi- 
viduals, has  become  troublesome  from  being  admit- 
ted too  rapidly  into  intimacy — you  must  not  expect 


STAGE-COACH  TRAVELLING, 


119 


me  to  be  very  coherent  in  detailing  the  impressions 
of  the  day. 

It  was  a gloomy,  lowering  morning,  with  occa- 
sional flakes  of  snow  driving  through  the  harsh  at- 
mosphere, when  I started  from  the  village  of  Mon- 
roe, well  mounted  on  a stout  roan,  whose  figure  and 
action  would  command  thrice  the  sum  in  New-York 
that  the  animal  cost  me  here,  and  whose  perform- 
ance to-day  speaks  well  of  the  dependence  I may 
place  upon  him  to  carry  me  through  my  arduous 
route  into  the  interior  of  the  peninsula.  It  was  with 
a feeling  of  almost  boyish  pleasure  that,  after  the 
slight  taste  I have  had  of  stage-coach  travelling  from 
Pittsburg  to  Cleaveland,  and  from  Detroit  to  Mon- 
roe, I found  myself  once  more  in  the  saddle,  with 
the  full  privilege  of  regulating  my  motions  as  I 
choose.  The  delightful  mode  in  which  I travelled 
with  S from  New-York  to  Wheeling,  in  a ba- 

rouche, with  two  led  horses  under  the  saddle,  was, 
indeed,  both  for  pleasure  and  solid  comfort,  not  to 
be  surpassed.  But  now,  though  I have  neither  the 
agreeable  friend,  the  attentive  groom,  nor  the  luxuri- 
ous carriage  to  enhance  the  gratification  and  relieve 
the  weariness  of  travelling,  the  feeling  of  indepen- 
dence still  remains.  And  though  I confess  I could 
not  suppress  a sigh  this  morning,  when  packing  up 
the  linen  and  books  which,  with  my  trunk,  I shall 
not  see  for  a month  to  come  ; yet  that  pair  of  saddle- 
bags beneath  myjeet,  though  conscious  only  of  a 
shirt  a-piece,  flanked  as  they  are  by  my  light  fowling- 
piece,  which  that  weather-beaten  worthy  is  at  this 
moment  curiously  examining,  and  my  leggings, 


120 


BANKS  OF  THE  RAISIN. 


which  are  drying  upon  those  andirons,  make  me  feel 
as  rich  as  did  that  famous  soldato  Dugald  Dalgetty 
himself,  with  his  single  change  of  chamois  leather 
and  iron  overcoat,  while  handling  his  arms  and  sur- 
veying his  compact  appointments  from  the  back  of 
the  doughty  Gustavus. 

My  road  led,  from  the  moment  of  leaving  the  vil- 
lage, along  the  banks  of  the  Raisin,  whose  serpen- 
tine current  flowed  fuller  and  clearer  the  farther  I 
advanced  into  the  country.  The  land  at  the  same 
time  gradually  rising,  and  though  never  hilly,  yet 
leaving  the  stream  far  enough  below  to  form  a bluff 
of  some  ten  or  fifteen  feet,  where  the  timber  land 
rose  from  the  rich  bottoms  on  its  margin.  After 
riding  thus  for  about  twenty  miles  along  the  river, 
where  the  log-cabins  gradually  became  fewxr  and 
farther  between,  I struck  through  a wood  so  dense 
that  it  seemed  to  terminate  the  settlements  in  this 
direction,  and  then,  at  a sudden  turning  of  the  path, 
I came  at  once  upon  the  oak  openings.  It  would 
be  difficult  to  convey  an  idea  of  the  pleasing  effect 
of  such  a surprise.  Imagine  yourself  emerging 
from  a New-Jersey  swamp,  and  coming  at  one  bound 
upon  one  of  the  English  parks  which  Puckler 
Muskaw  so  admirably  describes.  Clumps  of  the 
noblest  oaks,  with  not  a twig  of  underwood,  extend- 
ing over  a gently  undulating  grassy  surface  as  far  as 
the  eye  can  reach ; here  clustered  together  in  a 
grove  of  tall  stems  supporting  one  broad  canopy  of 
interlacing  branches,  and  there  rearing  their  gigantic 
trunks  in  solitary  grandeur  from  the  plain.  The 
feeling  of  solitude  I had  while  in  the  deep  woods 


FORESTS. 


121 


deserted  me  the  moment  I came  upon  this  beautiful 
scene,  and  I rode  on  for  hours,  unable  without  an 
effort  to  divest  myself  of  the  idea  that  I was  in  a 
cultivated  country. 

Towards  evening  I found  myself  in  the  thick 
forest  again,  and  was  glad,  as  the  night  closed  in 
darkly  over  the  road  where  at  every  step  my  horse 
would  either  sink  to  his  knees  in  mud,  or  trip  over 
the  stubble  of  newly  cut  saplings,  to  be  overtaken 
by  a mail  rider,  with  his  leathern  charge,  on  horse- 
back. The  lonely  lad  was  as  glad  of  company 
through  the  forest  as  I was  of  a guide  ; and  he 
willingly  taking  the  lead,  I flung  my  bridle  on  my 
horse’s  neck,  as  the  skies  became  blacker  and 
blacker,  and  touching  him  smartly  wflth  the  spur, 
away  we  went  through  the  woods  together. — 
“ Take  care  of  that  tree,  sir  ; look  out  for  the  mud- 
hole” — called  my  goblin  usher  at  each  moment,  as 
we  tramped  and  splashed  along  where  I would 
have  defied  the  Evil  One  himself  to  have  seen  any 
thing  but  the  impenetrable  dark.  I heeded  him 
not ; but  bending  low  in  the  saddle  to  avoid  the 
boughs,  I surrendered  myself  to  my  destiny,  and 
attending  to  nothing  but  keeping  my  horse  as  close 
as  possible  to  the  heels  of  his  file  leader.  At 
length  we  reached  a clearing,  and  a few  yards  of 
better  road  brought  us  to  a log  cabin.  The  family 
were  at  supper  when  I entered ; and  sitting  down 
with  the  rest,  I helped  myself  with  an  iron  spoon 
from  a dish  of  suppawn,  and  fishing  up  a cup  from 
the  bottom  of  a huge  pan  of  milk,  I poured  the 
snowy  liquid  over  the  boiled  meal  that  rivalled  it  in 

VOL.  i. — L 


122 


START  ON  OUR  JOURNEY. 


whiteness.  The  corn  from  which  it  is  made,  my 
host  tells  me,  grew  to  the  height  of  sixteen  feet,  the 
stalks  being  of  a blackish  green  colour.  From  the  . 
same  soil,  a black  sandy  loam  of  easy  tillage,  wheat 
as  high  as  a man’s  head  has  been  raised ; the  pro- 
duce from  a single  grain  being  from  three  to  four 
hundred,  and  in  one  instance  one  thousand  and 
twenty-six.  I see  symptoms  of  sleeping  in  those 
around  me  ; and  having  no  right  to  monopolize  this 
important  apartment,  will  conclude  this  elsewhere 
to-morrow. 

Tecumseh,  Lenawee  Co.5  M.  T.}  Dec.  t>. 

The  cockloft,  as  I expected,  wras  my  place  of 
rest.  I stumbled  over  a pile  of  corn,  and  struck 
my  head  against  the  roof,  almost  as  soon  as  I had 
got  my  body  fairly  above  the  trap  door.  I found  a 
clean  bed,  however,  and  it  wras  a very  sociable 
place  after  all,  for  there  were  four  persons  besides 
myself  stowed  away  in  the  . different  corners.  So 
soundly  did  I sleep  on  my  straw  pallet,  that  the 
night  seemed  to  me  but  just  begun,  wlien  the  red 
glare  of  a tallow  candle  flashing  over  my  eyes,  with 
the  tap  of  the  mail  rider  on  my  shoulder,  told  me 
that  dawn  was  breaking,  and  that  wre  must  be  gone. 
The  landlord  brought  out  a lantern  for  me  to  mount 
by  ; and  we  had  proceeded  far  on  our  journey  be- 
fore the  faintest  streak  in  the  east  indicated  the 
waking  of  the  sun. 

It  was  about  seven  o’clock,  when,  stopping  to 
water  at  a little  shantee,  I found  several  labouring 
people  at  breakfast  within ; and,  the  mail  carrier 


SWAPPING. 


123 


consenting  to  wait  for  me,  I sat  down  at  table  at 
once  with  the  rest.  The  fare  consisted  of  hot  rolls 
and  tea’,  large  slices  of  pork  swimming  in  gravy, 
and  a dish  of  mealy  potatoes.  My  plate  was 
heaped  at  once  with  all,  while  each  one  present 
vied  with  the  others  in  civility  to  me.  They  were 
talking  of  a horse  for  which  a hundred  dollars  had 
' been  paid,  when  I entered ; and  an  English  poach- 
ing gun  I have  with  me,  not  worth  a fifth  of  the 
sum,  caught  the  fancy  of  the  owner.  He  insisted 
upon  “ swapping  with  me  on  equal  terms,”  and 
seemed  much  hurt  when  I refused  not  only  to 
“ trade,”  but  expressed  no  inclination  to  see  his 
favourite  steed.  I replied,  however,  so  good- 
humouredly  to  his  entreaties,  that  he  still  persisted 
in  them  until  taken  aside  by  one  or  two  of  those 
present.  He  then  came  up  to  me  in  an  altered 
manner — “ I hope,  sir,  that  I don’t  insult  you  by 
wanting  to  buy  that  curiosest  of  guns,  for  I don’t 
mean  to  be  uncivil — not  at  all — in  the  least.” 

.Upon  assuring  him  that  I had  taken  no  offence, 
he  rejoined,  that  if  his  horse  was  not  worth  two 
hundred  dollars  he  would  eat  him,  but  he  had  set 
his  heart  upon  that  gun,  - and  must  have  it.  I did 
not  like  to  expose  myself  to  the  temptation  of  seeing 
the  horse,  though  of  course  I did  not  think  for  a 
moment  of  taking  advantage  of  the  honest  yeoman’s 
caprice ; but,  had  it  not  been  a present  from  a 
friend  abroad,  I should  certainly  have  given  my 
ardent  acquaintance  the  toy  which  caught  his 
fancy,  after  what  followed.  “ I say,  stranger,” 
said  he,  musing  fora  moment,  “do  you  want  a 


124 


PET  FAWNS. 


farm,  eh?  a house,  eh?  I’ll  trade  you  as  good  a 
tavern  stand,  two  miles  from  this,  as  there  is  in  the 
county.”  I got  away  at  last  as  he  followed  me  to 
the  door,  and  held  my  bridle  to  mount,  by  promis- 
ing to  leave  him  the  object  of  his  desires  in  my 
will. 

The  character  of  the  country  continued  for  some 
miles  much  the  same  as  that  passed  over  yesterday, 
though  the  river  gradually  degenerated  into  a nar- 
row, muddy  stream.  The  log  cabins,  which  always 
occurred  in  the  heavily-timbered  district,  had  no- 
thing to  distinguish  them  from  each  other,  and  the 
openings  were  as  silent  as  if  man  and  beast  had 
deserted  them ; though  I saw  a couple  of  deer  in 
one  instance  feeding  afar  off,  and  met  a settler  who 
was  carrying  a wolf,  just  caught  in  a trap  by  the 
road  side,  on  his  shoulders.  I was  struck,  too,  at 
seeing  no  less  than  three  pet  fawns  near  different 
houses,  within  a few  miles  of  each  other.  In  one 
instance  a tall  hound  was  sitting  erect  beside  one  of 
these  gentle  creatures,  who  was  licking  the  ears  of 
the  enemy  of  his  race.  The  incident  reminded  me  of 
an  anecdote  I heard  told  by  an  old  hunter  in  one  of  the 
wild  mountain  districts  of  New-York.  His  fa- 
vourite hound  one  morning,  when  the  deer  were 
in  the  red  coat  and  not  fit  to  hunt,  came  to  him 
while  chopping,  and  made  signs  for  his  master  to 
follow  to  a thicket  not  far  off,  where  the  woodman 
discovered  a fawn  so  entangled  that  it  could  not 
escape.  It  was  so  small  and  feeble  that  he  carried 
it  away  with  ease  in  his  arms,  while  the  doe,  which 
was  near  at  hand,  followed  her  bleating  offspring. 


PET  FAWN. 


125 


The  dog  accompanied  him  with  great  apparent 
joy,  and,  though  one  of  the  keenest  of  his  kind, 
would  drive  off  the  grown  deer  only  a few  rods, 
and  then  return  at  once  to  keep  an  eye  on  his 
master’s  movements.  The  fawn  was  taken  home, 
and,  being  fed  continually  by  the  children,  soon 
went  tame  about  the  house.  The  dog,  however, 
insisted  upon  sleeping  with  it,  and  could  scarcely 
be  separated  from  his  long-eared  friend;  and  when 
it  met  with  the  usual  fate  of  pets,  and  died  pre- 
maturely a month  or  two  after,  poor  Ring  was 
inconsolable.  The  worthy  English  settler,  who 
had  been  a gamekeeper  in  the  old  country  in  his 
day,  added,  that  he  had  the  curiosity  to  dress  a 
piece  of  the  venison,  which,  fond  as  hounds' are  of 
that  food,  was  rejected  with  disgust  by  the  canine 
mourner. 

One  of  the  other  fawns  which  I saw  would, 
with  the  group  attendant,  have  made  a pretty  sub- 
ject for  the  pencil.  He  had  thrust  his  head  into 
a bevy  of  rosy  little  girls,  who  were  making  “ sand- 
pies”  on  the  bank  of  the  river  ; and,  as  his  delicate 
hoofs  threatened  to  demolish  the  rural  substitutes 
for  the  card-houses  of  parlour-bred  urchins,  one 
of  the  little  architects,  covering  her  work  with 
her  hands,  kept  the  intrusive  animal  at  bay  with 
her  head;  the  long  yellow  locks  of  which  streamed 
over  his  bluish  crest,  while  the  perverse  beast 
twisted  his  snout  under  and  insisted  upon  licking 
her  face. 

It  was  still  early  in  the  afternoon  when  I arrived 
at  this  place,  and  my  surprise  was  not  slight,  after 

l 2 


126 


CEMETERIES. 


coming  through  a region  where  every  mile  seemed 
to  lead  me  farther  from  civilization,  to  light  sud- 
denly upon  a pretty  village  laid  out  with  broad 
streets,  and  having  an  excellent  tavern  on  a public 
square  in  the  centre.  I entered  the  town  through 
an  oak  opening.  Within  a few  hundred  yards 
from  the  village  I passed  several  graves  appa- 
rently dug  at  random  among  the  trees,  though 
each  was  marked  with  a handsome  tombstone. 
I have  since  learned  that  the  town’s  people,  with 
a degree  of  consideration  which  might  well  be 
emulated  in  larger  cities,  are  already  making 
arrangements  to  lay  out  and  plant  a public  ceme- 
tery for  the  use  of  every  religious  denomination. 
At  Monroe,  I believe,  they  have  already  done  the 
same  thing.  There,  indeed,  they  had  an  ample 
number  of  guests  for  the  narrow  house,  before 
even  the  abodes  for  the  living  were  built.  The 
bones  of  those  massacred  on  the  Raisin  bleached 
till  within  a few  years  on  the  banks  of  that  river ; 
and  an  inhabitant  of  the  place  told  me  that  he  had 
often  walked  over  the  execution  ground,  and 
handled  skulls  that  were  cloven  with  the  toma- 
hawk. There  is  also  an  Indian  cemetery  about 
twelve  miles  from  Monroe,  where  the  skeletons 
of  the  dead  can  be  plainly  seen  through  the  crevi- 
ces of  the  stone  pile  heaped  above  them.  I am 
told  that  they  are  wholly  unmolested  by  the  white 
inhabitants  ; partly  from  feelings  of  decency  credi- 
table to  themselves,  and  partly,  perhaps,  from 
fear  of  the  roving  relatives  of  the  deceased,  who 
return  yearly  and  observe  the  condition  of  the  spot 


THE  GRAND  RIVER. 


127 


with  a jealous  eye.  Not  far  from  this  place 
resides  an  old  settler  who  has  killed  a half  a dozen 
Indians  with  his  own  hand.  Three  or  four  of 
them  he  shot  with  his  rifle  from  his  cabin  when 
they  surrounded  it  to  capture  him  ; and  the  stories 
told  of  his  encounters  with  the  others  might  better 
be  detailed  by  a novelist  than  a letter  writer.  I 
have  seen  nothing  of  the  natives  yet  except  a 
couple  of  Wyandott  squaws  ; though  the  French 
settlers,  with  their  elf-locks  and  blanket  capotes, 
might  at  a distance  be  well  taken  for  aborigines. 
I think  a little  of  starting  at  once  for  the  Rapids 
of  the  Grand  River,  and  spending  a week  or 
two'  among  the  Ottawas ; who,  I am  told,  are 
still  there  in  considerable  numbers,  and  preserving 
enough  of  their  original  habits  to  make  them  fair 
specimens  of  the  Michigan  Indians.  They  tell 
me,  however,  that  a guide  will  be  indispensable  ; 
and  having  already  offered  one  in  vain  a fair 
compensation,  I may  be  compelled  to  give  up  the 
attempt. 

The  Grand  River,  or  Washtenong,  is,  as  I have 
before  mentioned,  the  largest  stream  in  the  penin- 
sula, being  two . hundred  and  seventy  miles  in 
length,  while  the  country  watered  by  it  consists 
of  about  seven  thousand  square  miles.  It  has  a 
good  harbour  at  its  mouth,  on  Lake  Michigan, 
for  vessels  drawing  eight  feet  water;  and  it  is 
navigable  for  those  drawing  four  feet  for  more 
than  thirty  miles  from  the  lake  : wdiile  farther 
inland  it  traverses  a country  represented  by  my 
informant,  who  has  recently  returned  from  survey- 


128 


INTELLIGENT  COMMUNITY. 


ing  in  that  distant  region,  as  of  immense  fertility. 
There  are  also  beds  of  gypsum  and  lime,  with 
stone  quarries  and  mines  of  iron,  with  indications 
of  the  existence  of  copper,  to  be  found  on  its 
tributaries  ; while  a hundred  mineral  springs — 
which  seem  to  abound  in  this  country,  for  I have 
already  seen  a half  a dozen — enrich  the  central 
region,  where  its  branches  interlock  with  the 
bright  waters  of  the  Huron  on  the  eastern,  and  the 
myriads  of  streams  and  lakes  which  form  the 
sources  of  the  Kekalamazoo  on  the  western  side  of 
the  peninsula. 

They  tell  me  here  that  it  would  be  in  vain  for  me 
to  attempt  to  cross  the  country  from  Chicago  to 
St.  Louis  alone  at  this  season  of  the  year,  when,  if 
the  vast  prairies  are  covered  with  snow,  I should 
be  lost  beyond  a certainty  ; and,  as  I am  now  com- 
pelled to  remain  until  the  new  public  conveyance, 
contracted  for  by  government,  commences  running- 
on  the  1st  of  January,  I shall  employ  the  interme- 
diate time  in  seeing  as  much  of  Michigan  as  possi- 
ble. I find  myself  among  the  most  intelligent 
population  of  the  middle  class  (the  bone  and  sinew 
of  a community)  I ever  mixed  with;  and  every 
one  seems  so  contented — I may  even  say  delighted 
with  his  adopted  home,  that  I am  catching  a little 
of  the  spirit  of  those  around  me,  and  am  eager  to 
visit  more  intimately  scenes,  which  one  would  sup- 
pose were  Elysian,  by  the  way  in  which  people 
talk  of  them.  I find  myself  as  yet  only  thirty-five 
miles  from  Monroe  by  the  new  United  States  road, 
though  the  route  I travelled  was  sixty-five.  When 


HEALTHFULNESS  OF  MICHIGAN. 


129 


you  next  hear  from  me,  I shall  be  farther  in  the 
interior,  and  hope  to  be  able  to  tell  you  that  I have 
seen  a hill  or  a rock,  the  sight  of  either  of  which 
would,  I confess,  be  refreshing,  in  spite  of  all  the 
charms  of  oak  openings,  vine-hung  streams,  and 
grassy  bottoms. 


LETTER  XI. 

Idealthfulness  of  Michigan — A Settler’s  choice  of  Land — Aspect 
of  the  Country — Indians — A Metamorphosis — Grotesque  Company 
— Love  of  Spirituous  Liquors — Africans  and  Indians — Indian 
Civilization — Narrative. 

• 

Saline,  Washtenaw  Co.,  M.  T.,  Dec.  7. 

I have  just  spent  an  hour  with  Mr.  Risden,  the 
surveyor  of  a great  part  of  Michigan,  in  talking 
about  the  district  with  which  he  is  familiar.  The 
conversation  turning  upon  the  healthfulness  of 
Michigan,  there  was  not  one  out  of  several  residents 
present,  who  did  not  admit  the  existence  of  bilious 
fevers,  and  fever  and  ague,  in  every  part  of  the 
country  ; but  they  spoke  of  passing  through  these 
diseases  as  merely  a slight  process  of  acclimating , 
which,  in  the  general  health  of  the  country,  was 
hardly  to  be  considered.  They  asserted,  too,  what 
I have  before  heard  stated  by  more  than  one  physi- 
cian in  the  territory,  that  Michigan  is  exempt  from 
many  of  the  diseases  most  fatal  to  human  life  at 


130 


HEALTHFUL NESS  OF  MICHIGAN. 


the  east.  Consumption,  for  instance — which  a 
reference  to  the  bills  of  mortality  will  show  destroys 
almost  as  many  in  New-York,  take  year  and  year 
together  for  several  in  succession,*  as  does  the  yel- 
low-fever in  New-Orieans — is  here  unknown.  Not 
only,  I am  told,  do  no  cases  originate  here,  but 
many  persons  from  New-York,  it  is  asserted,  have 
been  cured  of  the  complaint  by  coming  to  reside  in 
Michigan.  The  most  unhealthy  points  are  in  the 
vicinity  of  mill-dams  and  of  marshes,  near  both  of 
which  the  settlers  are  apt  to  fix  themselves  : near 
the  first,  for  the  convenience  of  grinding  and  saw- 
ing ; and  near  the  last,  for  the  rich  grass  they  afford 
with  only  the  trouble  of  mowing.  Health,  indeed,  is 
the  last  thing  a settler  seems  to  think  of,  by  the  way 
in  which  he  chooses  a site  for  his  house.  The 
country  abounds  with  lakes  and  streams  of  the 
purest  water  filled  with  fish,  but  you  seldom  find 
a house  on  their  banks ; the  purchaser  of  a new 
possession  neglects  alike  the  tempting  looking  oak 
opening,  and  erects  his  dwelling  in  the  thick 
forest,  provided  only  a road  or  trail  passes  within 
three  feet  of  his  door.  A trail,  by  the  way,  I must 
tell  you,  is  an  Indian  footpath,  that  has  been 
travelled  perhaps  for  centuries,  and  bears  here  the 
same  relation  to  an  ordinary  road  that  .a  turnpike 
does  to  a railroad  in  your  state.  He  chooses,  in 
short,  the  most  fertile  spot  on  his  acres,  in  order 

* Unless  I am  much  mistaken,  the  deaths  from  consumption 
alone  average  twenty -five  a week,  which  will  give  twelve  or  four- 
teen hundred  fatal  cases  in  a year;  a terrible  result  from  one  com- 
plaint alone. 


a settler’s  choice  of  land. 


13! 


to  have  a garden  immediately  round  his  house, 
which  he  places  plump  upon  the  road,  in  order  to 
have  it  “ more  sociable-like,  and  to  see  folks 
passing.”  His  garden  grows  from  almost  nothing. 
The  first  year  the  hog-pen  and  cow-yard  occupy 
the  place  designed  for  its  commencement.  They 
are  moved  farther  from  the  house  the  second  year, 
and  a few  cabbages  occupy  the  soil  which  they 
have  enriched.  They  move  again  on  the  third 
year ; and  the  garden,  which  can  now  boast  of  a 
few  currant  bushes  and  a peach  tree,  expands  over 
the  place  they  have  ceased  to  occupy.  And  now 
our  settler,  having  built  a fine  barn,  and  “ got 
things  snug  about  him,”  begins  to  like  the  looks  of 
the  woods  again,  which  he  has  so  industriously 
swept  from  every  spot  that  can  be  seen  from  his 
door.  He  shoulders  his  pickaxe,  goes  out  into  the 
forest,  and  selecting  two  of  the  straightest  maple 
saplings  he  can  find,  they  are  at  once  disinterred, 
their  heads  chopped  off,  and  a pair  of  poles,  thrust 
into  the  ground  within  two  feet  of  his  door,  are 
whitewashed  and  called  trees. 

Dexter,  Washtenaw  Co.,  Mi  T.,  Dec.  12. 

I have  been  here  two  or  three  days  but  so 
occupied  in  riding  about  looking  at  the  country, 
that  I have  not  till  now  attempted  to  finish  this 
letter.  Far  different  is  the  appearance  of  the  cot- 
tages here,  from  those  described  above  as  the 
common  residence  of  new  settlers.  They  build 
almost  altogether  in  the  oak  openings ; and  as  the 
country  is  now  undulating,  I have  seen  some  cabins 


132 


INDIANS. 


very  prettily  situated  in  clumps  of  oaks,  a gunshot 
from  the  road,  with  fields  of  young  wheat  extending 
in  every  direction  around  them.  The  soil,  when 
first  turned  up,  is  a kind  of  yellow  gravel,  very 
unpromising  in  its  appearance ; but  it  rapidly  un- 
dergoes a chemical  change,  becoming  almost  black 
in  fields  of  two  years’  cultivation,  and  improving 
every  season  without  the  aid  of  a particle  of 
manure.  I have  now  got  among  the  rolling  land, 
in  a region  full  of  lakes  and  oak  openings,  of  which 
hitherto  I had  only  a taste.  I need  hardly  say  how 
much  more  grateful  such  a country  is  to  my  eye 
than  the  level  thickly  timbered  lands  about  Detroit 
and  Monroe. 

I came  hither  by  way  of  the  pretty  village  of 
Anne- Arbour,  which  contains,  I should  think,  seven 
or  eight  hundred  inhabitants  ; many  of  whom,  I am 
told,  are  very  respectable  English  emigrants.  I 
stopped  at  a farm  house,  about  five  miles  from  here, 
to  dine.  A white-headed  boy,  six  or  seven  years 
old  was  turning  a grindstone  before  the  door,  while 
a couple  of  Indians  sharpened  their  knives.  Near 
them  a miserable  pony,  with  his  wooden  saddle 
covered  with  a freshly-flayed  deer,  and  a brindled 
wiry -haired  dog,  with  the  head  of  a wolf,  and  a crest 
of  a boar,  skulked  around  the  slaughtered  game,  and 
snarled  in  its  protection,  when  after  dismounting,  I 
approached  it.  His  swarthy  masters  and  myself 
entered  the  house  together.  “ Tenepe  keen  chemo- 
comon  ?”  (Where  is  your  American  ?)  said  the  old- 
est of  the  two  to  a very  pietty  Connecticut  girl,  who 
had  recently  followed  her  husband  to  this  country. 


INDIANS. 


133 


She  replied  by  pointing  to  him  working  at  a distance 
in  afield,  and  the  Indians  sat  down  patiently  till  * 
the  farmer  entered.  The  venison  was  then  laid  on  a 
table,  and  a bargaining  scene  commenced,  which 
lasted  full  half  an  hour.  “ Cau-nee-shin,  chomoco - 
mon ,”  (Not  a good  American,)  said  one  of  the  red 
barterers,  turning  to  me,  as  the  white  trader  offered 
him  what  he  thought  too  little  for  a whole  deer. 
The  bargain  was  struck,  however,  before  a bystan- 
der could  interpret  the  appeal  for  me.  The  skin 
still  remained  with  the  Indian  * and  I was  not  a 
little  surprised  to  see  produced  from  it  a variety  of 
articles  of  Indian  produce,  among  which  were  large 
cakes  of  deer’s  tallow,  about  the  size  of  an  ordinary 
cheese.  These  were  all  traded  away  in  succes- 
sion, and  a small  cask  produced  by  the  Indian,  was 
filled  with  whiskey  on  the  spot;  and  the  eldest 
mounting  the  pony,  they  both  shook  me  by  the 
hand,  and  soon  disappeared  with  their  poisonous 
burden  behind  a turning  of  the  road.  They  were 
of  the  Ottawa  tribe,  well-made  men,  though  slightly 
built,  and  with  aquiline  noses  and  finely  shaped 
heads;  and  each,  when  I first  saw  them,  had  the 
freest  and  most  graceful  step  I ever  saw,  whether 
on  the  sod  or  in  the  ball-room. 

How  complete  was  the  metamorphosis  when  I 
overtook  them  half  an  hour  afterward  in  the  woods! 
The  eldest,  who  could  not  have  been  more  than 
five-and-thirty,  was  barely  sober  enough  to  guide 
his  horse  ; and  sitting  with  both  arms  around  the 
barrel  of  whiskey  on  the  pommel  before  him,  he 
reminded  me  of  an  engraving  of  Bacchus,  in  a very 

VOL.  i. — M 


134 


GROTESQUE  COMPANY. 


vulgar  and  not  very  witty  book,  called  Homer  Tra- 
vestie.  The  Indian  gravity,  which  had  before  been 
preserved  amid  all  the  nervousness  incident  to  a 
trading  operation,  had  now  thoroughly  deserted  him, 
and  toddling  from  side  to  side,  he  muttered  a sort 
of  recitative,  which  combined  all  the  excellencies 
of  the  singing  and  spouting  of  a civilized  toper. 
His  companion,  a youth  of  but  seventeen,  seemed 
perfectly  sober;  and  stopping  only  occasionally  to 
pick  up  the  whip  of  the  fumbling  rider,  he  stepped 
so  lightly  by  his  horse’s  side  that  the  leaves  scarcely 
rustled  beneath  his  moccasin.  I was  somewhat 
pained,  of  course,  at  the  exhibition,  though  I con- 
fess I was  not  a little  diverted,  while  riding  along 
for  miles  in  the  silent  woods  with  such  grotesque 
company.  The  pedestrian  continued  as  reserved 
and  respectful  as  ever  ; but  my  fellow-cavalier,  after 
talking  a quantity  of  gibberish  to  me,  which  was  of 
course,  perfectly  unintelligible,  seemed  to  be  at  last 
quite  angry  because  I could  not  understand  him ; 
then,  after  again  becoming  pacified,  he  found  a new 
source  of  vehemence  in  urging  me  to  “ schivap 
pasischegun ” (exchange  my  gun,  to  which  he  took 
a great  fancy)  for  his  “ papooshe  pascocachee ,” 
(child  of  a horse,)  as  he  called  a colt  that  followed 
the  forlorn  pony  on  which  he  rode. 

I could  not  help  blaming  myself,  however,  for 
having  been  so  long  diverted  with  the  frailties  of 
this  hospitable  Silenus,  when  at  parting,  about  night- 
fall, where  he  struck  into  the  forest,  he  gave  me  an 
invitation  to  his  wigwam,  twenty  miles  off ; signify- 
ing the  distance  by  raising  all  his  fingers  twice,  at 


LOVE  OF  SPIRITUOUS  LIQUORS. 


135 


the  same  time  using  the  words,  “ Howh ! keen 
mcirchee  neen  wigwam ” (come  to  my  wigwam). 
How  strangely  are  we  constituted,  that  one  should 
derive  amusement  in  the  woods  from  an  exhibition 
which,  in  a city,  would  only  excite  pain  and  disgust! 
I have  never  seen  a half-intoxicated  Indian  before 
without,  the  deepest  feelings  of  commiseration. 
As  for  the  alleged  crime  of  selling  Indians  whiskey, 
it  is  impossible  to  prevent  it.  The  love  of  spirit- 
uous liquors  is  a natural  craving  of  the  red  man, 
which  is  irrepressible,  and  as  such  I have  heard  the 
most  humane  and  intelligent  persons  speak  of  it — 
people  who  have  passed  their  lives  among  the  In- 
dians, and  have  done  their  best  to  snatch  them  from 
this  perdition.  The  haughtiest  chief  will  travel  a 
hundred  miles  for  a pint  of  whiskey,  and  get  drunk 
the  moment  he  receives  it,  wheresoever  he  may  be. 

Providence  seems  to  have  designed  that  this 
mysterious  race  should  not  continue  upon  the  earth  ; 
and  fate  has  infused  a fatal  thirst  into  their  bosoms, 
which  is  hastening  their  doom  with  fearful  celerity. 
But  six  years  ago,  and  the  woods  around  me  were 
alive  with  Indians  ; now  they  are  only  traversed  by 
a few  such  stragglers  as  these.  You  majr  talk  of 
civilizing  them — but  that,  too,  is  impossible.  You 
may  more  easily  civilize  the  stupidest  African  than 
the  most  intelligent  Indian  ; and  yet,  who  for  a mo- 
ment would  compare  the  erect  port  and  manly 
tread,  the  air,  the  blooded  look  of  the  one,  with  his 
keen  sagacity  and  rare  instincts,  to  the  misshapen 
form,  the  shuffling  gait,  and  stupid  bearing  of  the 
other  ? Where,  then,  lies  the  difficulty  ? — The 


136 


AFRICANS  AND*  INDIANS. 


African  is  an  imitative  animal,  the  Indian  is  not. 
He  will  copy  the  form  of  your  weapons,  for  he  has 
felt  their  edge  ; and  he  will  make  himself  ridiculous 
by  wearing  a cocked-hat,  because  he  conceives  it 
to  be  an  emblem  of  authority.  Rings  and  bracelets 
he  may  wear,  for  they  recommend  him  to  his  own 
tribe  but  the  forms  and  fashions  of  civilization  he 
despises.  The  negro  furnishes  the  best  raw  mate- 
rial for  a dandy  that  can  be  had ; he  learns  at  once 
how  to  wear  his  hat  and  adjust  his  shirt-collar  ac- 
cording to  the  last  mode  of  the  white  man.  The 
Indian,  if  a fop,  departs  even  farther  than  usual 
from  the  costume  of  a European.  He  comes  from 
Nature’s  hands  all  that  she  ever  intended  him  to  be 
— the  wild  man  of  the  woods.  To  the  fleetness  of 
the  deer  in  traversing  the  forest,  he  unites  the  instinct 
of  the  hound  in  finding  his  way ; and  when  you  add 
to  these  the  mental  gift  of  a certain  wild  eloquence, 
wholly  unimprovable  by  cultivation,  you  have  nearly 
summed  up  the  intellectual  qualifications  of  the 
American  savage — the  genuine  child  of  Nature — 
the  untamed — the  untameable. 

I had  a long  conversation  on  this  subject  yester- 
day with  a middle-aged  gentleman  of  high  intelli- 
gence and  character,  for  many  years  settled  in  the 
territory,  and  who  has  availed  himself  of  unusual 
opportunities  of  studying  Indian  life  and  manners. 
We  had  been  all  day  in  a canoer  paddled  by  our- 
selves, exploring  a chain  of  small  lakes  in  this 
vicinity;  and  the  perfect  stillness  of  the  woods 
around,  while  floating  at  sunset  over  the  transparent 
water,  induced  him  to  remark  upon  the  rapid  dis— 


NARRATIVE, 


137 


appearance  of  the  inhabitants ; who,  but  six  years 
since,  when  he  first  visited  this  part  of  Michigan, 
kept  their  canoes  upon  every  stream  in  the  country. 
The  observation  suggested  the  discussion,  already 
alluded  to,  upon  the  feasibility  of  civilizing  the  In- 
dians ; and  he  told  me  a variety  of  anecdotes  about 
a young  Ottawa  chief  with  an  unpronounceable 
name,  whom,  on  various  accounts,  he  had  once 
thought  the  fittest  subject  for  social  life  he  had  ever 
met  with  among  the  aborigines.  The  conclusion 
of  his  relation  was  so  whimsical  and  strikingly 
characteristic,  that  I will  finish  this  letter  with  the 
details,  precisely  as  I took  them  down  in  my  note- 
book from  the  lips  of  my  informant ; our  canoe  the 
while  being  allowed  to  float  as  she  listed  along  the 
placid  bosom  of  one  of  those  beautiful  lakes  into 
which  the  river  Huron  expands  a few  miles  from  its 
sources. 

“ As  we  came  one  day  to  the  Indian  encamp- 
ment, Ketche-waun-doug-enink  caught  me  by  the 
hand  as  usual,  with  his  shrill  exclamation  of  wel- 
come ; and  my  party  proceeded  at  once  to  pitch 
our  tent  near  his,  before  a blazing  fire  of  logs. 
After  affording  us  what  assistance  he  could,  the 
young  chief  left  us ; but  in  the  evening  he  called 
in  again  at  our  tent,  and  brought  his  father  and 
mother,  his  wife,  and  three  sisters  with  him.  They 
all  looked  quite  solemn;  and  in  his  manner,  parti- 
cularly, there  was  something  altogether  unusual. 
Young  Ketche-waun-doug-enink  had  been  quite 
my  friend,  always  appeared  glad  to  see  me,  and 
was  generally  sociable  in  his  way ; but  now  he 

m 2 


138 


Narrative. 


was  grave  and  reserved,  almost  to  severity.  My 
familiarity  with  Indian  character  induced  me  to 
suppress  every  thing  like  surprise  .at  such  an  ex- 
traordinary change  of  deportment,  and  we  sat  thus, 
I should  think,  for  at  least  half  an  hour.  At  last 
the  young  Indian  rose  up  iti  a formal  way,  and 
taking  a position  full  in  the  light  of  the  fire,  began 
a speech  abounding  with  gesture  and  vehemence. 
The  amount  of  it  was  this  : — ‘ Listen,  my  friend  ; 
I see  that  you  are  wiser*  than  any  of  jmur  white 
brethren.’-— (I  must  interrupt  my  story,”  said  my 
companion,  “to  remind  you,  that  believing  my 
young  Indian  friend,  who  was  a fine  'looking  fel- 
low, had  some  relish  for  civilization,  and  half  a 
mind,  indeed,  to  turn  white  man,  I anticipated 
that  some  proposition  to  that  effect  would  be  the 
purport  of  his  speech.)  He  continued — ‘I  am 
glad  to  see  that  you  love  the  Indians ; that  you 
are  not  ashamed  of  our  mode  of  life.  Let  me  tell 
you,  what  I presume  you  already  know,  that  the 
life  of  the  white  man  is  one  of  care  and  trouble. 
The  Great  Spirit  has  blessed  his  red  children  in 
a peculiar  manner.  We  have  no  care.  We  are 
as  Che-manitou*  made  us.  We  have  not  degene- 
rated, but  are  still  his  favourites.  You  never  see 
a wrinkle  on  the  brow  of  an  Indian.  Look,  my 
brother,  at  the  forehead  of  my  old  father ; it  is  as 
smooth  as  my  own,  though  sixty  winters  have 
whitened  his  head.  His  days  have  glided  on  as 
undisturbed  as  the  smooth  stream  before  you.’ — 

* Che-manitou,  God,  or  the  Great  Spirit ; Mi-che-manitou,  the 
devil,  or  the  evil  spirit — See  note  D. 


NARRATIVE. 


139 


(We  were  on  the  banks  of  the  Shiawassee,”  inter- 
rupted the  narrator.) — “ ‘ Do  you  see,  my  brother, 
those  pebbles  in  the  bottom  of  the  clear  stream, 
as  it  throws  back  the  light  of  your  fire  ? It  is  thus 
that  every  thought  can  be  seen  that  dwells  in  the 
mind  of  the  Indian.  He  has  no  disguise — no 
cause  for  it ; the  troubles  of  the  white  man  disturb 
not  the  clear  stream  of  his  soul.  Come  with  us 
— share  with  us  the  gifts  of  Che-manitou ; think 
no  more  of  those  distant  lands  of  your  childhood, 
where  men  live  but  to  harass  each  other,  and 
gather  riches  that  eat  the  soul  up  with  care. 
Come — here  you  will  build  your  wigwam — I will 
help  you  ; you  shall  have  my  sister  for  your  wife 
. — she  shall  weave  your  mats,  and  raise  your  corn, 
and  dry  your  venison,  which  we  will  kill  together  in 
the  woods.  You  have  lived  long  enough  a life  of 
wretchedness  ; come  and  be  happy  with  us.’  ” 

I was  curious  to  learn  how  the  rest  of  the 
family,  and  especially  the  fair  member  of  it  par- 
ticularly designated  in  this  singular  harangue, 
behaved  while  her  brother  was  pronouncing  it;  and 
more  than  all,  how  the  object  of  it  himself  re- 
ceived the  address.  I will  endeavour  to  give  you 
the  exact  replies  of  my  interesting  companion, 
without  repeating  the  various  questions  from  me 
which  elicited  them. 

“ My  young  friend  sat  down.  Throughout  his 
speech  the  family  observed  the  utmost  silence. 
The  lady  in  question  was  as  indifferent  as  an 
Indian  could  be — at  least  in  manner.  They  all 
looked  at  me  for.  my  opinion,  the  lady  excepted. 


140 


NARRATIVE. 


I will  confess  that  I felt  embarrassed,  though  I 
had  but  half  a dozen  Indians  for  my  audience. 
An  answer,  however,  was  necessary.  ‘I  thank 
you,  my  friend,5  said  I,  ‘ and  needed  not  this  new 
proof  of  your  friendship.  I am  sensible  Che- 
manitou  has  smiled  upon  you;  that  you  are  his 
favourite  children.  But  we  white  men  have  been 
spoiled  by  education;  we  have  been  taught  to 
think  many  things  necessary  that  you  red  men  can 
do  wrell  without ; and  inferior  as  our  mode  of  life 
is  to  yours,  it  is  not.  the  least  of  its  evils  that  it 
has  unfitted  us  for  the  simple  pleasure  that  Che- 
manitou  every  day  gives  you.  I have  friends  and 
a mother  far  away  towards  the  rising  sun.  She 
does  not  know  the  red  men,  and  might  not  be  a. 
mother  to  your  sister.  Your  sister,  if  I should 
take  her  to  the  rising  sun  with  me,  would  pine 
for  her  green  woods  and  wigwam  by  the  bright 
Shiawassee.  She  will  doubtless  be  happier  as 
she  is.  She  will  take  for  her  husband  some  red 
man  like  yourself,  who  will  love  her,  and  prize  the 
blessings  which  Che-manitou  yields  you.  I again 
thank  you,  my  friend,  and  your  sister.  I must, 
after  a few  days,  leave  this  country;  but  I shall 
bear  my  friends  in  my  heart,  and  in  the  crowded 
city  where  the  white  men  live,  I shall  often  sigh 
for  these  green  woods,  and  lament  the  absence  of 
. my  red  friends.5  55 


PROPOSED  EXCURSION, 


141 


LETTER  XII. 

Proposed  Excursion — The  Short  Hills — An  Accident — Loss  of 
my  Horse — Floral  Beauties — My  Horse  again — Solitary  Shantee — 
Chase  of  a Buck — Prairie  on  Fire — Terror  of  my  Horse — G rim- 
looking  Savage — Snow  storm — Hospitable  Reception — Wild  Coun- 
try— Indian  Graves — Primitive  Guide-posts — Smiling  Landscape — 
Cabin  Dormitoty. 

Dexter,  Washtenaw  Co.,  M.  T.,Dec.  15th. 

I have  been  waiting  here  since  I last  wrote,  in 
order  to  join  an  exploring  party  of  three  or  four 
individuals,  to  go  up  into  Shiawassee  county,  to 
examine  lands.  A heavy  snow-storm  has  set  in 
to-day,  however,  and  as  it  will  put  an  end  to  the  expe- 
dition, I shall  probably  start  by  myself  for  the  Kala- 
mazoo country  to-morrow.  The  journey  to  Grand 
River,  which  I proposed  to  myself,  I shall,  from 
the  time  it  would  consume,  be  compelled  now  to 
abandon  entirely.  I do  not  regret  the  time  I have 
spent  here,  for  I am  not  far  from  the  centre  of  the 
territory ; and  while  I have  my  head-quarters  at  a 
good  inn  in  a well-settled  place,  I can  in  a ride  of 
a few  miles  plunge  at  once  into  the  wilderness.  It 
is  a pretty  dangerous  matter,  however,  for  a stran- 
ger to  go  without  a guide,  reconnoitring  through  a 
country  where  every  hill,  lake,  and  wood  looks  so 
much  like  its  brother,  that  the  ordinary  land-marks 
are  of  no  assistance  to  the  eye.  The  scenery  of 


142 


THE  SHORT  HILLS. 


Michigan  will  be  far  more  attractive  when  cultiva- 
tion shall  have  given  variety  to  a landscape  which, 
however  beautiful  at  present,  is  somewhat  monoto- 
nous. 

After  visiting  nearly  a dozen  of  the  transparent 
ponds  of  every  size  which  stud  the  surface  of  the 
country,  and  finding  but  two  or  three  Avhose  firm 
banks,  of  some  fifteen  or  twenty  feet  elevation, 
assumed  a picturesque  appearance,  from  the  irregu- 
lar manner  in  which  they  pushed  their  beautifully 
wooded  promontories  far  into  the  lakes  they  bound- 
ed, I started  the  other  day  to  visit  a sheet  of  water, 
somewhat  elevated,  about  twelve  miles  off.  My 
way,  after  going  a mile  or  two  from  the  village,  led 
through  oak  openings  of  rolling  land,  called  “the 
Short  Hills,”  wdiich  I can  best  assimilate  to  a col- 
lection of  enormous  graves — the  tombs  of  house- 
holds, if  you  choose — thrown  confusedly  together 
upon  a perfectly  level  surface ; where  a patch  of 
wild  meadow-land,  a cranberry  marsh,  or  a bog  that 
looked  like  the  desolated  bed  of  a lake,  and  fre- 
quently, indeed,  the  shallow  lake  itself,  filled  up  the 
intervals.  The  huge  oaks  that  crowned  the  sum- 
mits of  these  formal  mounds  were  the  only  objects 
that  relieved  the  dreariness  of  the  landscape  ; even 
they,  I thought,  while  riding  alone  beneath  their 
branches,  that  sighed  to  the  December  wind,  were 
not  the  most  enlivening  objects  in  the  world. 

I rode  thus  for  miles  without  seeing  a living 
thing  except  a raven,  which,  as  that  description 
of  bird  is  only  found  in  those  parts  of  the  Union 
where  wolves  still  infest  the  country,  I at  once  took 


j 


LOSS  OF  MY  HORSE. 


143 


it  for  granted  was  hovering  near  one  of  the  savage 
beasts  to  which  he  so  faithfully  plays  the  jackall. 
Wheeling  my  horse  suddenly  from  the  trail  towards 
a thicket  of  dwarf  oaks,  where  I expected  to  find 
the  carrion  deer  that  attracts  these  worthies,  he 
sheered  from  the  bush,  and  I was  thrown  upon  the 
spot.  After  extricating  the  foot  by  which  I was 
dragged  a yard  or  two,  from  the  stirrup,  I sprang 
up  but  little  hurt,  and  moved  as  quickly  as  possible 
to  catch  my  horse,  who,  having  paused  for  an  in- 
stant in  a clump  of  trees  near  by,  turned  his  head 
round,  like  a pointer  taken  aback  with  the  scent 
after  he  has  passed  a bush,  and  stood  calmly  gazing 
at  me.  At  the  first  step  towards  the  rascal,  how- 
ever, he  moved  nearly  a rod  sideways,  and  then 
ducking  his  head  towards  the  ground,  and  throwing 
his  heels  high  in  the  air,  my  ungrateful  courser, 
accompanying  these  motions  with  every  additional 
mark  of  disrespect  he  could  summon  to  his  aid, 
left  his  master  alone  in  the  wilderness.  He  disap- 
peared behind  a hill  in  a moment.  I could  not  help 
ejaculating  with  the  Kentuckian,  whose  house  and 
family  had  been  burnt  by  the  savages,  while  he  was 
cleaning  his  rifle  at  a brook  hard  by,  “This  is  very 
ridiculous” 

No  time  was  to  be  lost,  however.  It  was  late 
in  the  day,  and  I was  far  from  any  house ; while 
the  occasional  flakes  of  snow  which  began  to  fall 
from  the  black  lowering  sky,  threatened  a storm, 
which  might  cover  in  a moment  the  only  path  that 
could  guide  me  homeward.  I sat  down  at  once 
among  the  long  dry  grass,  and  stripping  off  my  leg- 


144 


FLORAL  BEAUTIES. 


gings,  and  disembarrassing  my  heels  of  the  now 
useless  spurs,  stowed  all  away  in  my  coat-pockets. 
The  coat  itself  I rolled  up  in  a bundle  around  my 
left  arm,  and  taking  my  gun,  to  which  I applied  a 
fresh  cap,  in  my  right,  I strode  off  in  as  good  a hu- 
mour as  one  could  summon  under  such  provoking 
circumstances.  I could  not  help  thinking,  indeed, 
how  much  worse  matters  might  have  been  had  X 
been  thus  deserted  in  one  of  the  broad  prairies,  thirty 
miles,  perhaps  from  any  house. 

As  for  the  loss  of  my  horse,  J felt  so  indignant 
against  the  inconsiderate  brute,  that  I confess,  it 
did  not  much  trouble  me.  Thus  did  I trudge  on, 
growing  momentarily  in  better  humour  with  myself. 
The  scene  around  was  dreary  at  present ; but  ha- 
ving had  all  the  wild  flowers  that  grow  in  Michigan 
described  to  me,  I exercised  my  imagination  by 
conceiving  the  more  attractive  appeal ance  it  must 
wear  in  summer.  I thought  how  the  brown  woods 
must  look  when  the  lofty  oaks  around  were  clothed 
in  their  deep-green  foliage.  I thought  of  the  va- 
rious vines  and  flowers  which  then  fill  the  broad 
openings  between  their  stems — of  the  clumps  of 
cluster-roses  that  here  grow  wild  and  cover  whole 
acres — of  the  crimson  daisy  and  fragrant  balm-pink, 
the  deep-hued  lichnidia  and  gorgeous  golden  rod, 
wdiich,  with  jonquils  and  amaranth,  the  purple  fox- 
glove and  saffron-coloured  silk-weed,  paint  the 
surface  of  the  soil.  I could  fancy  the  glossy 
leaves  of  the  nightshade,  with  its  white  blossoms 
and  poisonous  berries,  the  creeping  ivy  and  red 
columbine,  clustering  at  the  base  of  the  hills ; the 


MY  HORSE  AGAIN. 


145 


snow-white  lily  of  the  valley,  the  lilac-tinted  ad- 
dei’s-tongue,  and  straw-coloured  arrow-head,  shoot- 
ing through  the  long  grass  between  ; while  the 
purple  fleur-de-lis  bloomed  along  the  wet  marshes, 
where  the  splendid  cardinal-flower  tossed  its  scar- 
let blossoms  in  the  breeze. 

I must  have  practised  horticulture  in  this  way 
for  some  time,  when,  on  rising  a slight  eminence  in 
my  path,  I saw  my  amiable  roan  standing  quietly 
looking  in  the  direction  whence  I was  coming,  ap- 
parently waiting  for  me.  I was  completely  molli- 
fied. I forgave  him  the  little  freak,  and  advanced 
with  a light  heart  to  lay  my  hand  upon  the  bridle. 
He  moved  a little,  and  so  did  I.  He  moved  a little 
more,  and  I stood  still.  I spoke  to  him,  but  he 
continued  moving.  I coaxed  him,  in  a tone  that 
would  have  melted  the  heart  of  one  of  the  marble 
horses  of  St.  Mark’s ; he  was  moved  by  it — only 
farther  from  me.  I whistled  to  him— (I  had  taught 
him  a day  or  two  before  to  come  to  my  whistle, 
when  he  had  obeyed  me  like  a dog) — he  stopped, 
and  I advanced  once  more  to  lay  my  hand  on  the 
saddle,  and  the  scoundrel  broke  into  a trot  just  as  I 
was  about  touching  him.  I brought  my  piece  to 
my  shoulder,  and  could  hardly  forbear  drawing  the 
trigger  upon  him  as  I stood. 

The  ground  now  rolled  like  the  waves  of  a fro- 
zen sea ; and  my  nefarious  brute,  who  soon  began 
to  stalk  leisurely  along  about  a hundred  yards 
ahead  of  me,  would,  to  carry  out  the  figure,  be  just 
topping  the  combing  while  I was  in  the  trough, 
and  vice  versa—  like  two  children  balancing  on  a 

VOL.  i. — N 


146 


SOLITARY  SHANTEE. 


plank.  It  was  perfectly  insufferable,  mile  after 
mile,  to  see  that  eternal  saddle  bobbing  up  and 
down  a hundred  yards  ahead  of  me.  Sometimes, 
indeed,  the  vexatious  wearer  would  step  aside 
among  a cluster  of  oaks,  to  nip  the  tender  grass 
which  still  lingered  around  their  roots  ; and  then, 
as  he  would  arch  his  neck,  and,  seeming  to  admire 
the  Indian  blanket  and  flame-coloured  surcingle, 
which,  after  the  gay  taste  of  the  West,  I had  buck- 
led, combining  use  with  ornament,  to  the  back  of 
the  ungrateful  brute,  dash  off  with  a snort  into  a 
patch  ‘of  prairie  land ; I could  not  but  admire  the 
eye  of  fire  and  gracefully-gathering  limbs  of  the 
spirited  creature.  I wished,  however,  that  he  was 
any  body’s  horse  but  mine,  disporting  himself  at 
that  rate.  At  last,  at  a turning  of  the  path  he  dis- 
appeared behind  a hill,  and,  ceasing  longer  to  tanta- 
lize, left  me  comparatively  comfortable.  I reached 
the  first  “ clearing”  about  twenty  minutes  afterward, 
and  looking  along  the  highway,  which  here  com- 
menced, my  horse  was  no  where  to  be  seen. 

Tired  alike  with  walking  and  vexation,  and 
parched  with  thirst,  (I  had  neither  eaten  nor  drunk 
since  breakfast,  and  it  was  now  nightfall,)  I ad- 
vanced to  the  only  shantee  near,  and  knocked  at 
the  door.  There  was  no  answer,  and  I shook  it 
violently.  A rush-bottomed  chair  rattled,  and  a 
cat,  the  solitary  occupant,  sprang  out  through  a 
broken  window.  I soon  found  my  way,  however, 
to  the  dilapidated  trunk  of  a large  sycamore  tree 
near,  which  formed  the  top  of  a well,  and  drawing 
up  a moss-covered  bucket,  I placed  my  lips  to  the 


CHASE  OF  A BUCK. 


147 


rusty  iron-bound  brim,  and  took  a draught,  with 
which  the  most  delicious  chateau  margaux  were 
but  vile  vin  du  pays  in  comparison.  I can  re- 
member but  one  drink  in  my  life  before  to  compare 
with  it,  and  that  was  from  a similar  goblet,  after 
other  lips  than  mine  had  hallowed  the  brim.  A few 
moments  after  a lad  rode  into  the  yard  with  the 
object  of  my  pursuit,  whose  bridle  had  been  broken 
to  pieces  in  the  effort  of  several  men  to  catch  him  a 
mile  or  two  off.  I was  mounted  in  a moment,  and 
regained  my  lodgings  in  an  hour ; when  I found 
that  the  adventure  of  the  day  had  not  impaired  my 
relish  for  a supper  of  fresh  pike  and  white-fish,  just 
smoking  on  the  table. 

The  range  of  hills  which  traverse  the  peninsula 
longitudinally  near  here,  though ‘never,  I believe, 
more  than  a hundred  and  fifty  feet  high,  are  said 
by  some  to  constitute  the  most  elevated  part  of 
Michigan  : as  they  abound  in  game,  and  consist 
altogether  of  oak  openings,  you  can  conceive  of 
nothing  more  animating  than  to  gallop  over  them 
on  horseback.  I was  out  again  among  them  yes- 
terday ; and  having  a pocket  compass  and  a map 
of  the  country  with  me,  I ventured  to  leave  the 
trails  that  wind  among  the  hollows,  and  scamper 
over  the  hills  as  my  fancy  led  me.  A large  flock 
of  grouse  rose  almost  from  beneath  my  horse’s 
feet  as  I topped  the  first  slight  eminence  ; and  then, 
just  as  the  animal  was  recovering  from  the  flurry 
into  which  the  rushing  sound  of  their  wings  threw 
him,  a tall  broad  antlered  buck,  the  largest  I ever 
saw,  sprang  from  a small  covert,  and  bounded 


148 


PRAIRIE  ON  FIRE. 


through  the  wide  forest  glades.  Away  too  I went 
— the  feeling  was  irresistible — I could  see  the 
fellow  leaping  as  if  he  had  wings  over  the  rolling 
land,  and  the  clear  bracing  atmosphere  had  given 
spirits  to  my  horse,  that  sent  us  ahead  like  one  and 
the  same  animal.  In  spite  of  the  deer’s  prodigious 
jumps,  which  were  as  high  as  they  wxre  long,  I had 
decidedly  gained  on  him,  when,  on  coming  to  the 
brow  of  a steep  hill,  lie  dashed  down  the  side,  and 
was  far  away  over  another  before  my  less  agile 
horse  could  descend  the  first.  I sawT  two  more 
deer,  besides  several  flocks  of  grouse,  during  my 
morning’s  ride.  Singularly  enough,  this  was  the 
only  time  that  I had  moved  a mile  without  a gun 
since  I left  New-York;  and  it  was  the  only  oppor- 
tunity I have  had*  to  use  one  to  advantage.  If  Der 
Freyschutz  were  in  this  region,  I should  certainly 
let  the  wild  huntsman  make  his  own  terms  with 
me  for  better  luck. 

To-day,  for  the  first  time,  I saw  the  meadows  on 
fire.  They  are  of  vast  extent,  running  far  into  the 
woods  like  the  friths  of  a lake  ; and  as  the  wild 
grass,  which  they  supply  in  the  greatest  profusion, 
furnishes  the  new  settler  with  all  the  hay  he  uses 
for  his  stock,  they  are  burnt  over  thus  annually  to 
make  it  tender.  These  fires,  travelling  far  over 
the  country,  seize  upon  the  large  prairies,  and  con- 
suming every  tree  in  the  woods,  except  the  hardiest, 
cause  the  often-mentioned  oak  openings,  so  charac- 
teristic of  Michigan  scenery.  It  is  a beautiful  sight 
to  see  the  fire  shooting  in  every  direction  over  these 
broad  expanses  of  land,  which  are  kindled  at  a 


TERROR  OF  MY  HORSE. 


149 


variety  of  points.  The  flame  at  one  moment  curls 
along  the  ground,  and  seems  to  lick  up  its  fuel 
from  below,  while  at  the  next  it  tumbles  over  like 
the  breakers  of  the  sea  upon  the  dried  grass,  and 
sweeps  it  in  a wave  of  fire  from  the  ground.  I 
found  myself  repeatedly  surrounded  by  the  fire, 
while  riding  hither  and  thither,  watching  its  pro- 
gress ; but  was  only  on  two  occasions  exposed  to 
any  inconvenience — once  when  my  horse  sank  in 
the  mire  to  the  saddle  girths,  so  that  I had  to  dis- 
mount in  a morass  covered  with  high  weeds,  to 
which  the  flame  was  approaching,  and  another  time 
when  I found  myself  in  a small  patch  of  woodland, 
which  crackled  and  roared  like  Tophet  itself.  As 
I rode  to  and  fro,  trying  to  find  a point  where,  if 
necessary,  I might  encounter  the  flame  to  the  least 
disadvantage,  if  unable  to  avoid  it  altogether,  the 
ridiculous  position  in  which  I had  placed  myself 
reminded  me  not  a little  of  that  which  Andrew 
Fairservice  occupied  on  the  rock,  when  he  trotted 
hither  and  thither  on  his  narrow  platform,  to  avoid 
the  bullets  of  Rob  Roy’s  caterans.  A finer  sub- 
ject for  reflection,  however,  presented  itself  near 
the  spot.  A small  brook  .crossed  the  meadow,  and 
I bethought  myself  of  placing  it  between  me  and 
the  fire ; but  my  horse,  when  I rode  him  rapidly  to 
the  brink,  and  endeavoured  to  jump  him,  recoiled. 
I wheeled  round,  and  tried  it  again ; but  his  recent 
experience  in  the  treacherous  marsh  made  him  fear 
the  sedgy  margin,  and  nothing  could  prevail  upon 
the  cautious  animal  to  approach  it.  At  the  last 
attempt,  he  recoiled  so  suddenly  with  a terrified 

N 2 


150 


GRIM  LOOKING  SAVAGE. 


snort,  that  I was  nearly  thrown  ovor  his  head  ; and 
looking  for  the  now  cause  of  anxiety,  where  the 
stream  wound  around  so  as  almost  to  double  itself 
in  front  of  me,  I saw,  on  the  little  peninsula  of  the 
burning  meadow  thus  formed,  an  Indian  standing 
with  folded  arms  amid  the  wreathing  smoke,  and 
surveying  my  motions  with  an  aspect  of  perfect 
calmness.  He  was  a middle-aged  man,  rather  tall, 
and  in  the  full  costume  of  his  tribe.  The  hair  on 
hisforehead,  which  was  seamed  with  several  ghastly 
scars,  was  nearly  white  ; but  three'  long  plaited 
locks  of  raven  black  fell  down  behind,  from  the 
crimson  handkerchief  which  bound  his  brows.  He 
wore  a white  woollen  frock,  edged  with  black,  with 
scarlet  leggings  and  moccasins  ; white  armlets  of 
silver,  and  a belt  containing  his  tomahawk  and 
scalping  knife,  completed  his  equipments.  All 
these,  however,  were  observed  afterward,  when  I 
had  given  up  the  attempt  to  cross  the  brook,  and, 
spurring  through  the  flame  where  it  was  lowest, 
had  placed  myself  by  the  side  of  the  old  warrior. 
But  for  the  present  I remained  fixed  in  my  seat, 
gazing  on  the  noble  apparition  with  as  much  de- 
light as  if  my  own  call  had  evoked  it  from  the 
ground.  I had  seen  a dozen  Indians,  of  all  sizes 
and  sexes,  in  the  course  of  the  day,  not  one  of 
whom  had  awakened  the  slightest  interest  ; but 
there  was  that  about  the  port  and  bearing  of  this 
grim  looking  savage  which,  with  the  somewhat 
theatrical  attitude  he  assumed,  and  the  circum- 
stances under  which  I first  beheld  him,  carried  me 
away  completely.  He  smiled  when  I approached 


SNOW  STORM, 


151 


him,  and  saluted  me  with  great  kindness  of  manner ; 
though,  as  neither  of  us  understood  the  language  of 
the  other,  there  could  be  but  little  interchange  of 
ideas  between  us.  The  few  Indian  expressions  of 
which  I am  master  were  soon  expended,  and  he 
seemed  not  to  have  a word  of  English  to  give  me 
in  exchange.  He  made  me  understand,  however, 
that  the  frightful  wounds  which  disfigured  his  noble 
front  were  received  while  fighting  on  the  side  of 
the  British  against  the  Americans  at  Sandusky. 

Grass  Lake,  Jackson  Co.,  M.  T.,  Dec.  16, 
The  storm  of  yesterday  still  prevailed  when  I 
left  my  excellent  quarters  at  the  growing  little 
hamlet  of  Dexter,  to  find  my  way  towards  the 
country  watered  by  the  beautiful  Kekalamazoo. 
I had  been  furnished  by  mine  host  with  a map  of 
the  route  for  the  first  eight  or  ten  miles  ; and  it 
would  have  amused  you  to  see  me  occasionally 
stopping  in  a furious  snow-storm  to  balance  my 
pocket  compass  on  the  hasty  chart  thus  supplied, 
I found  my  way,  however,  with  very  little  difficul- 
ty through  a thick  wood,  where  the  heavy  coat  of 
snow  that  robed  the  trees  gave  a most  fantastic 
appearance  to  the  forest ; and  about  noon  I struck 
the  Washtenaw  trail  to  the  west.  The  travelling, 
however,  was  anything  but  agreeable.  The  snow, 
being  soft,  would  “ ball,”  as  it  is  called,  beneath 
my  horse’s  feet ; and  what  with  the  stumbling  and 
slipping  on  this  account,  I have  been  unable,  after 
a day’s  travel,  to  make  more  than  twenty  miles. 
There  was  barely  light  enough  left  for  me  to  dis- 


152 


HOSPITABLE  RECEPTION. 


tinguish  my  way,  when  I arrived  at  a comfortable 
log  house  belonging  to  an  intelligent  and  hospitable 
farmer,  a recent  emigrant  from  the  western  part 
of  the  state  of  New- York.  The  owner  of  the 

dwelling  was  absent ; and  it  was  not  till  after  a 
parley  of  some  minutes  between  two  very  pretty  wo- 
men, whom  I could  distinguish  through  the  window 
by  the  light  of  a tempting  looking  fire  within,  that  I 
gained  admittance  to  pass  the  night.  Once  there, 
however,  nothing  could  exceed  the  kindness  of  the 
family  to  make  the  few  hours  of  my  sojourn  pass 
agreeably. 

Spring- Arbour,  Dec.  17. 

It  snowed  when  I rose  at  dawn  this  morning ; 
but  my  hospitable  entertainer  of  last  night  insisted, 
after  an  early  breakfast,  upon  accompanying  me 
several  miles  on  my  journey  ; and  when  he  finally 
parted  with  me,  would  not  hear  of  receiving  any- 
thing in  compensation. 

The  snow  still  continues,  and  the  road  becom- 
ing worse  and  worse,  I have  made  even  less  pro- 
gress to-day  : but  there  is  something  so  wild  and 
picturesque  in  the  country  through  which  I am 
passing,  that  even  such  travelling  has  its  pleasures. 
I have  counted  more  than  a dozen  lakes  on  my 
route;  and  though  some  of  them  are  only  dreary- 
looking pools,  covering  a few  acres,  in  the  midst 
of  an  extensive  moss-marsh,  yet  the  short  sudden 
hills  which  surround  others,  with  the  beautiful 
groves  of  white  oak  on  their  banks,  and  the  natural 
meadows  that  open  upon  their  mimic  friths,  make 


INDIAN  GRAVES* 


153 


a most  romantic  appearance.  I came  unexpectedly 
upon  a travelling  band  of  Ottawas  this  morning,  in 
one  of  the  most  abrupt  of  these  passes.  They 
were  returning  home  amply  furnished  with  presents 
from  the  recent  treaty  held  on  the  Wabash;  and 
their  fluttering  blankets,  gleaming  weapons,  and 
gaudy  equipments  generally,  would  have  made 
them  a fine  subject  for  a painter,  as  a furious 
squall  snow  swept  along  the  side-hill  they  were 
descending.  We  exchanged  the  customary  saluta- 
tion, “ Boj'u,”  (probably  from  the  French  bon  jour,) 
and  passed  on. 

There  are  several  Indian  graves  immediately 
before  the  door  of  the  shantee  where  I am  stopping 
for  the  night,  which  I am  told  are  regularly  visited 
and  weeded  by  the  surviving  relatives  of  those 
here  buried.  My  host  has  had  the  good  taste  to 
put  a fence  around  them,  to  keep  his  cattle  from 
the  spot — a piece  of  attention  with  which  the  In- 
dians appeared  to  be  much  gratified*  at  their  last 
visit ; and  1 may  here  observe,  that  the  settlers  of 
Michigan  generally  appear  to  treat  this  ill-fated 
race  with  a degree  of  kindness  and  consideration 
that  might  well  be  imitated  in  other  sections  of  our 
frontier.  This  morning  I crossed  the  far-flowing 
Washtenong,  or  Grand  River,  near  the  new  village 
of  Jacksonburg ; and  the  sight  of  its  clear  smooth 
waters  inspired  a new  regret  that  I must  abandon 
my  original  intention  of  following  them  down  to  the  * 
last  trading-post. 


154 


PRIMITIVE  GUIDE  POSTS. 


Forks  of  the  Kekalamazoo  (Calhoun),  Dec.  18. 

This  never-ending  storm  still  continues ; and 
the  trails,  where  ndt  incessantly  travelled,  being 
now  completely  covered  and  effaced,  I lost  my 
way  this  morning,  and  wandered  several  miles 
from  the  track.  After  traversing  a broad  marsh, 
however,  where  my  horse  seemed  loth  enough  to 
venture,  I struck  a burr-oak  opening,  an^  found 
my  way  by  the  blazed*  trees  back  to  the  main 
trail.  A man  who  is  ysed  to  it,  I am  told,  can 
get  along  very  well  in  this  way ; but  you  can  ima- 
gine, that  where  one  has  frequently  to  cross  open- 
ings of  some  two  or  three  hundred  yards  in  width, 
and  then  hunt  up  these  primitive  guide-posts,  which 
only  occur  at  long  intervals,  and  have  their  slice  of 
bark  taken  out  at  either  side,  it  is  not  quite  so  easy 
to  find  his  way  here,  especially  with  the  snow  blow- 
ing full  in  his  face,  as  if  walking  through  the  rec- 
tangular streets  of  Philadelphia.  It  took  me  three 
hours  to  gain  six  miles  in  this  way,  my  horse  slip- 
ping and  floundering  at  almost  every  step.  But, 
lost  as  I was,  I could  not  help  pausing  frequently 
when  I struck  the  first  burr-oak  opening  I had  ever 
seen,  to  admire  its  novel  beauty.  It  looked  more 
like  a pear  orchard  than  anything  else  to  which  I 
can  assimilate  it ; the,  trees  being  somewhat  of  the 
shape  and  size  of  full-grown  pear  trees,  and  stand- 
ing at  regular  intervals  apart  from  each  other  on  the 
firm  level  soil,  as  if  planted  by  some  gardener. 

* “ Blazed”  trees  are  marked  with  an  axe  or  hatchet,  to  designate 
that  a trail  runs  near  them. 


SMILING  LANDSCAPE. 


155 


Here,  too,  I first  saw  deer  in  herds  ; and  half-frozen 
and  weary  as  I was,  the  sight  of  those  spirited- 
looking.  creatures  sweeping  in  troops  through  inter- 
minable groves,  where  my  eye  could  follow  them 
for  miles  over  the  smooth  snowy  plain,  actually 
warmed  and  invigorated  me,  and  I could  hardly  re- 
frain from  putting  the  rowels  into  my  tired  horse, 
and  launching  after  the  noble  game. 

What  a country  this  is  ! Into  land  like  this,  which 
is  comparatively  undervalued  by  those  seeking  to 
settle  on  the  prairie,  a man  can  run  his  plough  with- 
out felling  a tree;  and,  planting  a hundred  acres 
where  he  would  clear  but ‘ten  in  the  unsettled  dis- 
tricts of  New-York,  raise  his  twenty-five  bushels  of 
wheat  to  an  acre  in  the  very"  first  season.  “ How 
is  the  soil  here,  sir  ? ” said  I to  a farmer,  whose  • 
broad  fields,  though  but  a year  under  cultivation, 
looked  as  if  they  had  been  tilled  for  ten.  “ A pretty 
good  gravelly  loam  of  eighteen  inches;  but  I. think 
soon  of  moving  off  to  Kalamazoo,  where  they  have 
it  four  feet  deep , and  so  fat  that  it  will  grease  your 
fingers .”  Railroads  and  canals  will  make  one 
broad  garden  of  Michigan  ; and  even  now  there  is 
something  singularly  pleasing  to  light  upon  spots  in 
the  wildest  districts  which,  were  it  not  for  the  rude 
shantees  which  indicate  their  recent  settlement — - 
often  of  but  a few  months  back — might  be  mistaken 
for  the  cultivated  farms  of  an  old  country.  The 
absence  of  stumps  in  the  land  under  cultivation,  and 
the  open  groves  adjacent,  give  a smiling  openness 
to  the  landscape,  which,  with  the  myriads  of  wild 
fiowrers  that  brighten  the  woods  in  their  season, 


15(5 


CABIN  DORMITORY. 


must  make  the  aspect  of  the  country  perfectly  de- 
lightful. I hardly  know,  though,  how  some  of  your 
city  elegants  would  meet  the  inconveniences  of  tra- 
velling here.  As  for  eating,  indeed,  they  might 
manage  with  the  aid  of  cranberry  sauce  to  rough  it 
on  venison  and  wild  honey,  backed  by  the  finest 
potatoes  and  best  wheat  bread  in  the  world ; but  I 
think  that,  when  it  comes  to  sleeping,  they  would 
be  somewhat  posed  between  a bed  in  the  bush  and 
one  shared  with  the  hospitable  inmates  of  a cabin, 
whose  dormitory  for  the  whole  family  is  often,  as 
well  as  their  kitchen  and  parlour,  comprised  in  a 
single  room.  Were  it  not  an  infraction  of  the  laws 
of  hospitality,  I could  draw  some  whimsical  pic- 
tures of  scenes  I have  witnessed  in  this  wray. 

* I have  now  passed  the  central  region,  where  the 
eastern  and  western  rivers  of  Michigan  have  their 
rise  ; and  while  I follow  down  the  pebbly  waters  of 
the  beautiful  Kekalamazoo  to  their  western  outlet, 
and  from  thence  pass  to  the  mouth  of  the  St.  Jo- 
seph’s, you  must  not  expect  the  same  regularity  in 
my  correspondence  that  I have  hitherto  attempted 
to  preserve. 


NEW  INN  OF  MARSHALL. 


157 


LETTER  XIII. 

New  Inn  of  Marshall — A Railroad  Meeting — Projected  Route — 
Internal  Communication — A Pioneer’s  Speech — Population  of  Mi- 
chigan— Price  of  Land — Causes  of  Sickness — Lonely  Scenes — 
Jumpers — Lodge  in  the  Wilderness — Growth  of  Society — Lyon 
Lake — Hunting-ground — Camp  of  Warpkesick — Motley  Group — - 
Warpkesick — Rifle -shooting — An  Indian  Dandy — Our  Departure 
— Death  of  a Buck. 


Marshall,  Calhoun  Co.,  M.  T.,  Dec. 

I confess  that  it  was  with  some  pleasure  that— 
after  dividing  my  time  for  several  days,  as  described 
in  my  last,  between  roads  rendered  almost  impassa- 
ble by  continual  snows  and  log  cabins,  where  the 
recent  settler,  however  hospitable,  had  but  spare 
accommodation  to  offer  to  the  passing  traveller — on 
rising  an  elevation  on  the  northern  bank  of  the 
Kekalamazoo,  I saw  a large  frame  building,  which 
was  evidently  an  inn,  rearing  its  comfortable  look- 
ing chimneys  above  a group  of  log  huts  on  the  plain 
beneath.  My  horse,  who  had  doubtless  repented  of 
former  escapadoes  in  the  companionable  intercourse 
which  had  now  for  some  time  subsisted  between 
us,  seemed  to  sympathize  in  the  feeling;  and, 
pricking  up  his  ears  as  he  snuffed  the  grain  in  a 
flour-mill  directly  beneath  us,  we  descended  the 
slippery  height,  and  were  soon  tolerably  well  housed 
in  the  new  inn  of  Marshall.  The  house  was,  in- 


vol.  i. — o 


158 


A RAILROAD  MEETING. 


deed,  not  as  yet  plastered  inside  ; and  the  different 
bed-rooms,  though  lathed,  seemed  divided  from  each 
other  by  lines  rather  imaginary  than  real ; but  the 
bar-room  wore  already  the  insignia  of  a long  esta- 
blished inn  in  an  old  community;  and  apprized  me 
at  once,  by  the  placarded  sheriffs’  notices,  and  ad- 
vertisements for  stolen  horses,  grain  to  be  sold,  and 
labourers  wanted,  which  indicate  the  growth  of  bu- 
siness in  country  life,  that  society  was  in  a pretty 
mature  state — at  least  six  months  old — in  the  county 
town  of  Marshall.  I was,  therefore,  not  at  all  sur- 
prised to  find  among  these  notices  a call  for  “ a 
railroad  meeting”  in  the  evening,  especially  as 
nearly  eighteen  months  had  elapsed  since  the  first 
white  man  erected  his  cabin  in  this  section  of  the 
country. 

The  meeting  which  might  be  termed  a crowded 
one,  was  conducted  with  more  animation  than 
unanimity.  There  were  several  intelligent  men 
present  however;  and  I listened  with  interest  to 
their  exposition  of  the  resources  of  this  section  of 
Michigan,  which,  as  a wheat-growing  country,  may 
be  justly  compared  to  the  celebrated  Genesee  val- 
ley of  New- York;  while  the  soil,  as  I have  heard 
it  well  observed  by  a resident,  “ unlike  the  heavily 
timbered  land  of  the  eastern  states,  instead  of 
wearing  out  one  generation  in  subduing  it  for  the 
purposes  of  the  husbandman,  invites  the  plough  at 
once.”  Nor,  if  a railroad  should  be  constructed 
from  Detroit  to  the  mouth  of  the  St.  Joseph’s, 
passing  through  the  counties  of  Wayne,  Washte- 
naw, Jackson,  Calhoun,  Kalamazoo,  Van  Buren, 


PROJECTED  ROUTE. 


159 


and  Berrien,  do  I think  it  would  be  too  bold  to 
assert  that  the  amount  to  be  transported  by  the 
time  the  work  was  completed  would  be  equal  to 
one  million  of  barrels,  which  is  a less  estimate  by 
two  hundred  thousand  than  I have  seen  given  by 
an  intelligent  writer  on  this  subject  in  a Detroit 
paper.  The  route  thus  designated,  I am  persua- 
ded is  the  right  one  for  a railroad  ; though,  should 
a different  mode  of  communication  be  determined 
upon,  it  would  be  difficult  to  decide  whether  it 
were  most  expedient  to  construct  a canal  from  the 
Falls  of  Grand  River  to  Detroit,  or  from  the  navi- 
gable waters  of  the  St.  Joseph’s  to  Monroe.  I do 
not  hesitate  to  add,  that  before  two  years  have 
expired,  all  of  these  routes  will  be  under  contract. 
The  abundant  resources  of  Michigan  are  developing 
so  rapidly,  that  they  will  shortly  require  all  these 
outlets ; and  in  a country  where  you  may  drive  a 
barouche  and  four  for  hundreds  of  miles  in  any 
direction  through  the  woods,  the  expense  of  con- 
structing more  artificial  ways  will  be  comparatively 
trivial. 

Did  I not  know  how  ignorant  generally  the  peo- 
ple of  the  east  are  of  the  resources  and  condition 
of  this  country,  it  would  surprise  me  that  some 
New-York  capitalists  have  not  embarked  in  some 
of  these  works.  A tempting  speculation  might  be 
realized  by  laying  out  a railroad  on  one  of  these 
routes  above  described,  having  first  purchased  the 
land  in  its  vicinity  at  government  prices,  to  be  dis- 
posed of  afterward  when  its  value  should  be  enhan- 
ced by  the  completion  of  different  sections  of  the 


160 


a pioneer’s  speech. 


work.  The  ingenious  writer  above  alluded  to,  has 
already  suggested  this  mode  of  covering  the  ex- 
pense of  such  an  undertaking.  You  can  have  no 
idea  of  the  feeling  existing  on  the  subject  of  in- 
ternal communications  throughout  Michigan ; and 
it  would  amuse  you  not  a little  to  witness  the 
heart-burnings  and  jealousies  on  the  subject  which 
pervade  a country  but  just  beginning  to  be  peopled. 
The  rapidity  with  which  people  establish  them- 
selves and  collect  the  indications  of  agricultural 
wealth  around  them,  before  they  have  even  the  or- 
dinary comforts  of  life,  will,  in  a great  measure, 
account  for  their  looking  thus  a-head  and  quarrel- 
ling about  the  game  before  it  is  hunted  down. 
The  farmer,  who  has  more  grain  in  the  sheaf 
stacked  in  the  field  than  he  can  accommodate  in  his 
barn,  is  naturally  more  eager  to  find  the  means  of 
sending  a share  of  it  to  market. 

I was  quite  diverted  at  the  turn  matters  took  at 
the  meeting  which  suggested  these  remarks,  when 
a discussion  in  relation  to  the  various  routes  to  be 
recommended  to  government  in  case  they  should 
consent  to  make  a railroad  through  the  peninsula, 
became  unpleasantly  warm.  “ This  pother  re- 
minds me,  Mr.  Chairman,”  said  an  old  pioneer  “ of 
two  trappers,  who,  in  planning  a spearing  expedi- 
tion for  the  next  day,  quarrelled  about  the  manner 
in  which  a turtle  which  they  purposed  taking,  should 
be  cooked  for  their  supper  after  the  day’s  sport  was 
over.  An  old  Indian  happily  settled  the  difficulty 
by  proposing  that  they  should  first  catch  the 
turtle  ! Now,  sir,  as  this  railroad” — “ The  case  is 


POPULATION  OF  MICHIGAN. 


161 


not  at  all  parallel,”  interrupted  a still  more  ancient 
speaker,  “ for  Nature  has  already  caught  the  turtle 
for  us.  She  meant  the  railroad  to  pass  right  along 
here,  and  nowhere  else.” 

The  councils  of  the  meeting  were  not  on  the 
whole  so  harmonious  as  I could  have  wished  from 
the  courtesies  offered  me  after  its  termination  by 
the  adherents  of  the  two  parties  of  Guelphs  and 
Ghibbelines  which  distract  the  unhappy  city  of 
Marshall;  but  it  was  surprising  to  a stranger, 
upon  looking  round  at  the  hovels  of  mud  and  logs 
which  as  yet  occupy  its  site,  to  find  so  many  per- 
sons of  intelligence  and  refinement  thus  collected 
within  their  precincts.  The  population  of  Michi- 
gan generally, — as  I believe  I have  before  observed, 
• — is  much  superior  in  character  to  the  ordinary 
settlers  of  a new  country.  The  ease  with  which 
a man  can  here  support  a family  as  a farmer,  indu- 
ces a great  many  persons  of  all  professions  in  other 
states  to  abandon  their  former  pursuits  and  become 
tillers  of  the  soil.  The  alteration  of  life  I should 
judge,  by  the  contentment  I every  where  witness, 
is  almost  always  for  the  better. 

I have  met  with  several  dispeptics  who  have 
been  completely  cured  of  that  horrible  disease  by 
their  change  of  life.  With  such,  health  is  a sen- 
sation, a positive  delight ; and  in  duly  estimating 
the  blessing,  they  of  course  were  ever  ready  to 
praise  the  conditions  upon  which  they  enjoy  it. 
Others  again,  bred  up  in  a city,  find  in  the  indul- 
gence of  that  love  of  rural  life,  which,  when  it  is  a 
natural  taste,  is  inextinguishable,  an  ample  com- 

o 2 


162 


PRICE  OF  LANl). 


pensation  for  breaking  up  established  habits  and 
associations.  The  majority,  again,  are  men  of 
slender  means  ; and  while  the  necessity  of  attend- 
ing practically  to  the  subsistence  of  their  families 
keeps  them  employed,  the  want  of  pecuniary  re- 
sources pi  events  their  embarking  in  the  thousand 
idle  schemes  which  tend  so  often  to  the  chagrin 
and  the  ruin  of  “ gentlemen  farmers.”  But  the 
main  cause  of  Michigan  being  settled  by  such  re- 
spectable people  remains  yet  to  be  mentioned.  It 
is,  that  no  one  can  take  up  an  acre  of  land  without 
first  paying  cash  for  it  at  one  of  the  three  land- 
offices  of  the  territory.  The  whole  surface  of  the 
peninsula  has  either  been,  or  is  now  being,  sur- 
veyed into  townships  of  six  miles  square.  These 
again  are  subdivided  into  sections  of  a mile  square; 
which  sections  are  again  cut  up  into  lots  of  forty 
acres  ; which  is  the  smallest  quantity  of  land  that 
can  be  taken  up  from  the  government.  The  price 
is  invariably  one  dollar  twenty-five  cents  an  acre. 
When  you  consider,  therefore,  that  every  emigrant 
who  means  to  locate , (this  is  a sound  American 
word,  and  as  indispensable  in  the  vocabulary  of  a 
western  man  as  are  an  axe  and  a rifle  among  his 
household  furniture,)  must,  however  poor,  have 
some  earnings  in  advance  to  purchase  the  spot 
upon  which  he  is  to  live,  and  to  bring  his  family 
to  such  a remote  distance,  it  will  be  easy  to  con- 
ceive that  the  industrious  and  the  enterprising 
must  constitute  the  largest  portion  of  such  a popu- 
lation of  freeholders.  The  prosperity  of  a whole 
community  composed  of  such  aggregate  masses 


CAUSES  OF  SICKNESS. 


163 


may  be  safely  predicted  ; and  though  one  some- 
times meets  with  those  whom  the  first  process  of 
accumulating  renders  discontented,  and  induces  to 
speak  ill  of  the  country,  yet  in  general  I may  say, 
that  the  pride  of  a Michiganian,  in  the  beautiful 
land  of  his  adoption,  is  as  strong  as  the  home-feel- 
ing upon  which  the  citizens  of  some  of  the  older 
states  pique  themselves. 

As  for  the  sickness  which  always  prevails  more 
or  less  among  the  new  settlers,  to  one  who  is  aware 
of  their  imprudences  the  wonder  is  that  the  ma- 
jority of  them  escape  with  their  lives.  Think  but 
of  people  setting  themselves  down  on  a soil  of 
twenty  inches  in  depth,  and  in  the  month  of  June, 
when  the  weeds  and  wild  flowers  o’ertop  the  head 
of  the  tallest  man,  turning  over  the  rank  soil  im- 
mediately around  their  dwellings,  and  allowing 
the  accumulation  of  vegetable  decomposition  to  be 
acted  upon  by  a vertical  sun,  and  steam  up  for 
months  under  their  very  nostrils ; and  yet  this,  I 
am  told,  is  continually  practised  by  settlers  who 
come  in  late  in  the  season,  and  are  anxious  still  to 
have  a crop  the  first  year.  Here,  as  in  the  case  of 
those  settlers  who,  for  4he  sake  of  the  wild  hay, 
locate  themselves  near  the  great  marshes,  impru- 
dence alone  is  manifested  ; but  the  charge  of  cul- 
pability will  justly  attach  to  some  othei  cases, 
when  nuisances,  not  before  existing,  are  created  by 
the  owners  of  property.  I allude  to  the  practice, 
expressly  prohibited  by  the  laws  of  Michigan,  of 
flooding  land  while  constructing  mill  ponds,  with- 
out iemoving  the  green  timber  growing  upon  the 


164 


CAUSES  OF  SICKNESS. 


spot.  So  pernicious  is  this  to  the  health  of  the 
neighbourhood,  that  it  effects  very  sensibly  the 
value  of  property  near  the  new  pond ; and  yet,  in 
their  eagerness  to  have  mills  erected,  and  aid  the 
market  of  their  overflowing  granaries,  the  new  in- 
habitants overlook  entirely  the  gross  violation  of 
their  laws,  and  the  melancholy  consequences  which 
ensue  to  their  families.  Another  cause  of  sickness 
is  drinking  the  water  of  springs  or  rivers  which  rise 
in  marshes,  and  are  of  course  impregnated  with 
their  baleful  properties,  instead  of  digging  wells 
where  water  is  not  liable  to  such  exception. 

As  for  general  healthfulness  of  situation,  I be- 
lieve it  is  agreed  that  the  banks  of  the  small  lakes 
which  so  abound  in  the  peninsula,  are — when  these 
transparent  bodies  of  water  are  surrounded  by  a 
sand  beach,  which  is  the  case  with  about  a third 
of  them — among  the  healthiest.  They  are  fed 
generally  by  deep  springs,  and  in  many  instances 
are  supposed  to  have  a subterranean  outlet : while 
so  beautifully  transparent  are  their  waters,  that  the 
canoe  suspended  on  their  bosom  seems  to  float  in 
mid-air.  These  lakes  abound  with  fish  ; and  in 
some  of  them,  of  only  a few  acres  in  extent,  fish 
have  been  taken  of  forty  pound’s  weight.  They 
generally  lie  embosomed  in  the  oak  openings  ; and 
with  their  regular  and  almost  formal  banks  crowned 
with  open  groves,  these  silver  pools  might  be 
readily  taken  for  artificial  trout  ponds  in  a cultiva- 
ted park.  I need  hardly  add,  that  it  is  necessary  to 
diverge,  as  I have,  from  the  route  generally  travel- 
led, to  see  these  scenic  gems,  so  numerous,  lonely, 


LONELY  SCENES. 


165 


and  beautiful.  Not  one  in  a hundred  has  a settler 
on  its  banks ; and  I confess  I take  a singular  plea- 
sure in  surveying  these  beauties,  as  yet  unmarred 
by  the  improving  axe  of  the  woodman,  and  unpro- 
faned by  the  cockney  eyes  of  city  tourists ; nor 
would  I change  my  emotions,  while  ranging  alone 
over  the  broad  meadows,  traversing  the  lofty  forests, 
or  loitering  by  the  limpid  lakes  of  Michigan,  for 
the  proudest  musings  of  the  scholar  who  revels  in 
classic  land.  It  may  argue  a want  of  refinement 
in  taste,  but  I confess  that  a hoary  oak  is  to  me 
more  an  object  of  veneration  than  a mouldering 
column  ; and  that  I would  rather  visit  scenes  where 
a human  foot  has  never  trod,  than  dwell  upon  those 
gilded  by  the  most  arrogant  associations  of  our 
race. 

What  are  the  temples  which  Roman  robbers 
have  reared — what  are  the  towers  in  which  feudal 
oppression  has  fortified  itself — what  the  blood- 
stained associations  of  the  one,  or  the  despotic  su- 
perstitions of  the  other,  to  the  deep  forests  which 
the  eye  of  God  has  alone  pervaded,  and  where  Na- 
ture, in  her  unviolated  sanctuary,  has  for  ages  laid 
her  fruits  and  flowers  on  His  altar  ! What  is  the 
echo  of  roofs  that  a few  centuries  since  rung  with 
barbaric  revels,  or  of  aisles  that  pealed  the  anthems 
of  painted  pomp,  to  the  silence  which  has  reigned 
in  these  dim  groves  since  the  first  fiat  of  creation 
was  spoken  ! 

I shall  diverge  from  my  western  course  to-mor- 
row a few  miles  southward,  in  order  to  visit  a 
group  of  lakes,  near  which  a band  of  Pottawratta- 


166 


JUMPERS. 


mies,  a tribe  I have  not  yet  seen,  have  their  en- 
campment. I will  leave  this  letter  open,  in  order 
to  give  you  the  result  of  my  visit. 

Calhoun  Co.}  M.  T.;  Dec;  23. 

Did  you  ever  see  a jumper  ? Probably  not ; so 
I’ll  describe  one  to  you.  It  is  a primitive  kind 
of  sledge,  or  troineau . A couple  of  hickory  poles 
are  so  bent  as  to  serve  for  both  shafts  and  run- 
ners ; on  these  is  placed  a crate,  supported  by  four 
props.  The  harness  is  equally  simple  and  rustic  ; 
a collar  of  undressed  deer-skin,  with  reins  made  of 
ropes  on  the  twisted  bark  of  trees.  The  crate 
being  filled  with  hay,  and  the  driver  well  wrapped 
up  in  a buffalo  robe,  the  turn-out  is  complete,  and 
by  no  means  uncomfortable.  In  such  a vehicle  did 
I sally  out  from  Marshall  this  morning,  in  company 
with  a young  companion  recently  from  the  eastern 
states,  the  first  fellow-traveller  I have  as  yet  met 
with.  My  horse,  whose  back  had  been  so  galled 
by  the  saddle  as  to  detain  me  for  a couple  of  days, 
seemed  highly  to  approve  of  this  new  mode  of  tra- 
vel: Mr.  Osbaldistone  behind  Tom  Thumb,  or 
Sesostris  in  his  chariot,  could  not  have  dashed  off 
with  more  glee  than  did  we  with  our  merry  jumper 
along  the  dimpling  waters  of  the  Kekalamazoo ; 
when,  lo ! just  as  we  had  crossed  a bridge  of  un- 
hewn timber,  and  were  under  full  way  through  the 
oak  openings,  our  frail  bark  struck  on  a rock  hidden 
by  the  snow,  and  we  were  capsized  and  wrecked 
in  an  instant.  Fortunately,  though  both  were  pitch- 
ed, like  a couple  of  quoits,  from  the  machine,  we 


LODGE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 


167 


were  neither  of  us  hurt.  I mounted  my  steed,  and 
rode  on,  leaving  the  remains  of  the  shattered  jumper 
where  chance  had  thrown  them.  My  companion 
returned  to  the  settlement,  borrowed  a horse,  and 
soon  overtook  me ; and  we  jogged  on  to  a “ lodge 
in  the  wilderness,”  which  he  shares  with  another 
young  gentleman,  likewise  from  the  east,  who  had 
also  recently  made  his  home  in  this  land  of  enter- 
prise. Their  rustic,  abode  was  a little  cottage  in  a 
beautiful  grove  not  far  from  the  banks  of  the  Keka- 
lamazoo,  and  I write  this  letter  from  beneath  their 
roof. 

It,  is  amusing  to  observe  how  little  singularity 
people  here  attach  to  a mode  of  life  which,  in  older 
countries,  would  be  looked  upon  as  highly  eccentric. 
My  entertainers  are  both  young  lawyers,  liberally 
educated,  and  unused  to  privation ; and  yet  the 
house  in  which  I am  passing  the  night,  with  every 
article  of  furniture  it  contains,  is  of  their  own  manu- 
facture ; a saw,  an  axe,  a wood-knife,  and  a jack- 
plane,  being  their  only  tools.  It  would  amuse  you 
not  a little  to  look  through  the  window,  and  see  our 
group  at  this  moment.  One  of  my  companions, 
whose  axe  and  rifle  are  suspended  by  wooden  hooks 
to  the  rafters  over  his  head,  is  professionally  engaged 
in  drawing  a declaration  at  the  table  upon  which  I 
am  writing  ; while  the  other,  having  just  got  through 
removing  the  remains  of  our  game  dinner,  prepared 
and  cooked  by  his  chum,  is  now  sitting  with  a long 
pipe  in  his  mouth,  watching  a coffee-pot,  which 
steams  up  so  fragrantly  from  the  live  embers,  that 
no  light  consideration  would  induce  me  to  part  with 


168 


GROWTH  OF  SOCIETY. 


the  interest  I have  in  its  contents.  Their  house, 
which  has  been  thus  occupied  for  three  months,  is 
a perfect  pattern  of  neatness  ; though,  as  it  consists 
of  but  a single  room,  no  little  ingenuity  is  required 
to  arrange  their  books,  housekeeping  apparatus,  and 
sporting  equipments,  so  as  to  preserve  even  an  ap- 
pearance of  order  in  such  a band-box.  They  have 
already  sufficient  business,  they  tell  me,  to  sustain 
their  moderate  household;  and  as  the  Indians  supply 
them  with  abundance  of  provisions,  they  have  ample 
leisure  to  devote  to  study. 

It  is  not  very  uncommon,  however,  to  meet  thus 
with  persons  of  education  and  some  accomplish- 
ment under  as  humble  a roof  as  this  in  the  wilds  of 
Michigan ; for  so  rapid  is  the  growth  of  society 
here,  that  he  who  aims  at  a prominent  station  in 
the  new  community,  must  be  a pioneer  far  in  ad- 
vance of  the  growing  settlements.  Two  years  ago 
the  first  white  man  raised  his  log  hut  in  the  county 
of  Calhoun ; it  has  now  a population  of  one  thou- 
sand five  hundred  ; and  I have  passed  an  evening  in 
at  least  one  mud-plastered  cabin  whose  fair  and 
elegant  inmates  would  grace  any  society. 

December  24th. 

The  air  was  mild  this  morning ; and  large  flocks 
of  snow-birds  twittering  among  the  burr-oaks, 
with  jays  screaming  from  the  woods,  and  packs  of 
grouse  rising  continually  before  us  in  the  openings, 
made  our  route  to  the  camp  of  Warpkesick,  a 
Pottawattamie  chieftain,*  more  like  a ride  in  the 

* See  note  E. 


LYON  LAKE. 


169 


spring-time  than  a winter  excursion.  I was  ac- 
companied by  my  companion  of  yesterday;  and  as 
we  were  both  well  mounted,  we  galloped  over  the 
openings  towards  Lyon  Lake,  at  a rate  that  brought 
us  in  a few  minutes  to  the  white  sand-beach  which 
fringes  that  beautiful  water.  The  marks  of  an 
Indian  trail  were  here  easily  discernible  ; and  fol- 
lowing the  foot-marks  dashed  in  the  yielding  sand, 
the  frequent  print  of  moccasins  soon  led  us  again 
away  from  the  shore  into  a tall  wood  beyond.  A 
morass,  that  shook  for  yards  around  as  our  horses’ 
hoofs  encountered  the  sagging  peat,  was  next  to  be 
crossed ; and  then  passing  between  two  small  lone- 
ly-looking  lakes,  where  a tall  pine  or  two  lifted  its 
sweeping  cone  above  the  tapering  tamaracks 
around,  we  struck  at  last  into  a dense  forest. 
Here  the  numerous  deer-runways,  with  the  flocks 
of  wild  turkeys,  and  innumerable  tracks  of  racoons, 
wolves,  and  bears,  showed  us  that  we  were  upon 
a favourite  hunting  ground  of  the  Pottawattamies. 
As  for  the  wolves,  they  are  little  disturbed  by  the 
Indians,  who  consider  them  fair  hunters  like  them- 
selves, and  privileged  to  go  unmolested.  They 
generally  abound  around  a hunting-camp  ; and  soon 
grow  fat  on  the  offals  of  game  slaughtered  near 
it.  But  bears — though  the  successful  hunter  inva- 
riably takes  his  dead  quarry  by  the  paw,  calls  him 
his  grandfather,  and  asks  his  pardon  for  killing  him, 
“ being  compelled  to  it  by  necessity”* — are  hunted 
with  great  avidity ; and  you  generally  find  a tama- 

* See  note  F. 

VOL.  I. — P 


y 


170 


HUNTING  GROUND. 


rack  swamp  the  favourite  covert  of  these  animals, 
in  the  vicinity  of  a hunting-camp. 

We  had  ridden  for  about  a mile  through  the  hea- 
vily-timbered land  when  reaching  the  banks  of  the 
Nottawaseepe,  a branch  of  the  St.  Joseph’s,  I heard 
the  sound  of  children’s  voices,  and  descried  two  or 
three  red  urchins  wading  through  the  shallow  stream 
on  stilts,  while  others  of  a similar  age,  were  amu- 
sing themselves  in  shooting  bows  and  arrows  on 
the  opposite  side.  We  immediately  forded  the 
stream ; and  making  our  way  into  a swamp,  where 
the  horses  sank  to  the  knee  at  every  step,  came 
unexpectedly  upon  a piece  of  firm  ground,  some 
eighty  yards  in  diameter,  and  found  ourselves  in  the 
middle  of  the  camp  of  Warpkesick.  It  was  composed 
of  three  or  four  wigwams  only,  but  they  were  large, 
and  probably  contained  several  families  each.  They 
were  constructed  of  mats,  arranged  precisely  in  the 
form  of  a tent,*  and  supported  in  the  same  man- 
ner ; an  opening  being  left  in  the  centre  for  the 
escape  of  the  smoke,  and  a blanket  suspended  over 
a hole  cut  in  the  side^upplying  the  place  of  a door. 
The  day  being  mild  for  the  season  of  the  year,  the 
indwellers  of  these  simple  habitations  were  at  the 
moment  of  our  arrival,  variously  occupied  in  seve- 
ral groups  on  the  outside.  Some  of  the  men  were 
cleaning  their  weapons,  and  others  were  arranging 
their  bundle  of  muskrat  traps ; while  one  old  fel- 
low, whose  screwed-up  features,  peering  from  un- 
der a mass  of  grizzly  locks,  indicated  the  cunning 

* The  Ottawas  have  a somewhat  different  form  for  their  wig- 
wams. See  note  G. 


CAMP  OF  WARPKESICK. 


171 


of  the  trapper  rather  than  the  boldness  of  the  hun- 
ter, was  occupied  in  flaying  an  otter,  but  just  taken. 
The  women  alone,  however,  appeared  to  be  assi- 
duously engaged — the  men  having  all  a lounging  air 
of  indolence,  incompatible  with  the  idea  of  actual 
employment:  pressing  skins  was  the  occupation  of 
the  former ; and  they  sat  grouped  each  like  a hare 
in  its  form,  around  a collection  of  boiling  kettles, 
over  which  the  skins  were  suspended. 

A tall  virago  of  fifty,  whose  erect  stature,  elf- 
locks,  and- scarlet  blanket  floating  about  her  person, 
would  entitle  her  to  flourish  as  Meg  Merrilies  in 
the  frontispiece  of  Guy  Mannering,  stood  up  in  the 
midst;  and,  had  it  not  been  for  some  tolerably 
pretty  faces  among  her  junior  co-laborators,  might 
have  been  taken  for  Hecate  herself,  surrounded  by 
the  weird  sisters  of  the  caldron.  A pack  of  wolf- 
ish-looking curs,  about  twenty  in  number,  completed 
the  assemblage ; which,  when  you  take  into  con- 
sideration the  variously  coloured  calico  dresses  and 
wampum  ornaments  in  which  the  females  had 
arrayed  themselves,  with  the  white,  blue,  red,  and 
green  blankets  in  which  the  men  were  wrapped, 
constituted  about  as  motley  a collection  as  ever 
followed  Falstaff  to  the  field.  Warpkesick  him- 
self, the  chief  of  the  gipsy  band,  issued  from  his 
lodge  while  I was  thus  studying  the  appearance  of 
his  adherents.  He  was  a young  man,  not  more 
than  thirty,  with  a handsome,  though  somewhat 
voluptuous  cast  of  countenance,  and  remarkably 
fine  eyes.  His  stature  was  rather  below  the  middle 
size  ; and  though  the  upper  part  of  his  person  was 


172 


MOTLEY  GROUP. 


extremely  well  formed,  with  a deep  chest  and  broad 
flat  shoulders,  one  of  his  legs,  whether  from  de- 
formity or  misfortune  I did  not  like  to  inquire,  was 
so  twisted  under  his  body  as  to  be  worse  than  use- 
less. He  supported  himself  upon  an  ashen  staff 
about  eight  feet  in  length,  and  terminating  at  the 
bottom  in  a round  ball,  to  prevent  it,  probably,  from 
sinking  too  deeply  into  the  earth  while  in  rapid  pur- 
suit of  game ; the  chief  being,  in  spite  of  the  un- 
sightly encumbrance  he  is  compelled  to  drag  after 
him,  when  bounding  like  a stricken  panther  on  his 
prey,  one  of  the  keenest  hunters  of  his  tribe.  He 
received  us  courteously,  but  remained  standing ; 
while  several  Indians  gathered  in  a few  moments 
around  him : after  shaking  hands  with  them  all  in 
succession,  I took  up  a loaded  gun,  and  by  way  of 
breaking  up  the  formality  of  the  meeting,  desired 
an  eagle-eyed  young  Indian  to  make  a shot  with  it. 
He  hesitated  for  a moment  to  comply,  and  immedi- 
ately all  the  others,  from  some  whim  or  other, 
insisted  that  I should  shoot.  Our  conversation 
being  altogether  in  signs,  it  was  some  moments 
before  I understood  their  gestures ; and  I confess, 
that  having  but  little  practice  with  a single  ball,  I 
was  any  thing  but  unembarrassed  when  I came  to 
understand  the  purport  of  the  request  they  were 
proffering  vrith  so  much  animation.  A small  blaze 
that  was  instantly  made  with  a tomahawk  in  a 
sapling,  forty  or  fifty  yards  distant,  left  me  no 
excuse  for  pretending  longer  to  misunderstand  my 
worthy  acquaintances  ; and  placing  the  gun  to  my 
shoulder,  I was  as  much  surprised  at  putting  the 


AN  INDIAN  DANDY. 


173 


ball  within  a couple  of  inches  of  the  centre,  as  if 
the  tree  had  screamed  when  thus  pierced  by  my 
random  bullet. 

Having  met  with  those  in  Michigan  who  will 
drive  a rusty  nail  with  a rifle  at  this  distance,  and 
shoot  leaves  from  each  other’s  heads  at  six  rods,  I 
could  not  account  for  the  degree  of  approval  mani- 
fested by  the  spectators,  till  my  companion  informed 
me  that  the  Indians,  owing  perhaps  to  the  inferi- 
ority of  their  rifles,  which  are  of  English  manufac- 
ture, are  but  indifferent  marksmen  at  still  objects. 
“ Tai-ya  /”  cried  the  women,  “ Neshin!”  said  the 
chief,  and  “ Nesheshin!”  echoed  his  attendants; 
while  the  blankets  of  the  lodges  were  now  for  the 
first  time  raised,  and  entering,  we  stretched  our- 
selves on  mats  around  the  fire.  A youth  of  nine- 
teen sprang  to  his  feet  as  I removed  the  dingy  cur- 
tain which  formed  the  door,  and  revealed  a face  and 
form  that  might  be  the  model  of  an  Apollo.  Being 
ill  at  the  time,  he  was  but  half  dressed ; the  purple 
blanket  dropping  from  his  shoulders  setting  off  a 
neck  and  chest  of  the  finest  manly  proportions.  His 
features  were  copied  by  nature  from  a Greek 
model ; while  his  shaven  crown,  with  the  single 
chivalric  scalp-lock  tufted  with  a heron’s  feather, 
would,  in  its  noble  developments,  have  thrown  the 
disciples  of  Gall  and  Spurzheim  into  ecstasy.  The 
peculiarity  of  his  head  dress,  with  the  beautifully 
beaded  leggings  round  his  ankles,  revealed  to  me 
at  once  that  the  young  gentleman  was  an  Indian 
dandy — a Pottawattamie  Pelham  in  an  undress  • 

p 3 


174 


OUR  DEPARTURE. 


and  I assure  you  that  Mrs.  — — never  schooled 
any  of  his  New-York  rivals  to  wear  their  Spanish 
cloak  with  a better  air  than  was  exhibited  by  my 
red  friend  Mitosway-Coquatchegun,  or  Ten-Gar- 
ters, as  he  gathered  the  folds  of  his  blankets  about 
his  person. 

Pipes  were  now  lit,  and  Ten-Garters,  who  was 
too  unwell  to  smoke  himself,  politely,  after  a few 
whiffs,  tendered  me  his  ; while  my  conpanion,  who 
could  partially  speak  the  language,  was  supplied 
from  another  quarter : we  were  soon  perfectly  at 
home.  I had  picked  up  from  the  floor  of  the  lodge, 
on  entering,  a rude  musical  instrument — a species 
of  flute,  of  imperfect  tones,  but  having  a rich 
mellow  sound — when,  as  I was  trying  to  squeeze 
a tune  from  the  gamutless  pipe,  Warpkesick  rose 
abruptly,  and  stating  that  he  had  to  start  at  once 
on  a trapping  expedition,  signified  that  we  should 
take  our  departure.  An  Indian  pony  stood  at  the 
door,  and  leaping  at  one  bound  into  the  wooden 
saddle,  an  immense  bundle  of  steel-traps  was  hand- 
ed to  the  chief  by  a bystander ; and  accompanied 
by  an  Indian  on  foot,  almost  as  sorry  looking  as  the 
miserable  beast  he  rode,  our  abrupt  host  disap- 
peared at  once  into  the  woods.  I was  lingering 
behind  to  purchase  the  flute,  and  had  conciliated 
the  squawrs  wonderfully  by  tearing  out  the  silk 
lining  of  my  frock-coat,  and  giving  it  in  shreds  to 
their  children,  when  my  friend,  being  already 
mounted,  told  me  we  had  better  move  off.  I had 
barely  time  to  cross  the  saddle,  when  a whoop 


DEATH  OF  A BUCK, 


175 


rang  through  the  woods,  which,  while  it  made  my 
horse  spring  almost  from  beneath  me,  would  have 
wakened  Rip  Vanwinkle  from  his  twenty  years5 
doze.  The  piercing  cry  from  the  forest  was  echoed 
with  an  exulting  shout  from  every  wigwam.  A 
dozen  dusky  figures  leaped  through  their  flimsy 
porches,  with  as  many  rifles  gleaming  in  their 
hands.  He  of  the  heron  feather  was  the  first  that 
caught  my  eye,  and  as  his  gun  pointed  in  the  di- 
rection whence  the  first  whoop  came,  immediately 
behind  me,  I could  not  help,  in  spite  of  the  un- 
desirable propinquity  of  its  muzzle,  admiring  the 
eagle  eye  and  superb  attitude  of  the  young  warrior. 
Not  a soul  advanced  three  paces  from  the  covert 
whence  he  sprung.  There  was  a dead  silence. 
The  children  held  their  breath,  and  “ Meg  Mer- 
rilies,55  who  had  stepped  on  a fallen  tree  at  the  first 
outcry,  now  stood  so  still  that  her  eldritch  form, 
were  it  not  for  the  elk-locks  streaming  over  her 
scarlet  blanket  in  the  breeze,  might  have  been  mis- 
taken for  a figure  of  stone.  Another  whoop,  and 
the  cause  of  all  the  commotion  at  once  appeared. 
A noble  buck,  roused  from  his  lair  by  Warpkesick, 
comes  bounding  by  the  camp,  and  buries  his  proud 
antlers  in  the  dust  in  a moment.  A dozen  scalp- 
ing-knives pierce  his  leathern  coat,  and  the  poor 
creature  is  stripped  of  his  skin  almost  before  he  has 
time  to  pant  out  his  expiring  breath. 

I rode  home  reflecting  upon  all  I had  ever  read 
of  the  want  of  vivacity  andkfire  in  the  Indian  cha- 
racter, and  concluded  that  I would  rather  have 
witnessed  the  spirited  scene  I have  just  attempted 


176 


INVITATION. 


to  describe  to  you,  than  double  all  the  knowledge  I 
have  hitherto  laid  up  from  such  sources. 

I leave  this  comfortable  house  in  the  morning, 
and  it  will  be  long  before  I reach  again  one  half  so 
agreeable. 


\ < - 


LETTER  XIV. 

Invitation — New  Acquaintances — Border  Talk — Wedding  Com- 
pany— The  Kekalamazoo — Prairie  Ronde — Michigan  Scenery — 
Rope  Ferry — English  Settlers — Beautiful  Hills — Agriculture — 
Lakes — Want  of  Society — Internal  Communication. 

Prairie  Ronde,  Kelamazoo  Co.,  M.  T.,  Dec.  26. 

“Stranger,  will  you  take  a cocktail  with  us?” 
called  out  a tall  athletic  fellow  to  me  as  I was 
making  my  way  through  a group  of  wild  looking 
characters  assembled  an  hour  since  around  the  fire 
by  which  I am  now  writing.  There  was  a long- 
haired “ hooshier”  from  Indiana,  a couple  of  smart 
looking  “ suckers”*  from  the  southern  part  of  Illi- 
nois, a keen-eyed  leather-belted  “ badger”  from 
the  mines  of  Ouisconsin,  and  a sturdy  yeoman-like 
fellow,  whose  white  capot,  Indian  moccasins,  and 
red  sash,  proclaimed,  while  he  boasted  a three 

* So  called  after  the  fish  of  that  name,  from  his  going  up  the 
river  to  the  mines,  and  returning  at  the  season  when  the  sucker 
makes  its  migrations. 


NEW  ACQUAINTANCES. 


177 


year’s  residence,  the  genuine  wolverine , or  natu- 
ralized Michiganian.  Could  one  refuse  to  drink 
with  such  a company  ? The  spokesman  was 
evidently  a “ red-horse”  from  Kentucky,  and  no- 
thing was  wanting  but  a “ buck-eye”  from  Ohio  to 
render  the  assemblage  as  complete  as  it  was  select. 
I was  in  the  midst  of  the  first  real  prairie  I had 
ever  seen — on  an  island  of  timber,  whose  lee, 
while  making  slow  headway  for  the  last  two  hours, 
writh  a biting  breeze  on  my  beam,  it  had  been  my 
whole  object,  aim,  and  ambition  to  get — a com- 
fortable bar-room,  a smoking  “ cocktail,”  a worship- 
ful assemblage,  (Goldsmith’s  Club  was  a fool  to 
it,)  had  never  entered  my  dreams  ! Could  I refuse 
to  drink  with  such  a company  ? The  warm  glass 
is  in  my  frozen  fingers.  The  most  devout  tem- 
perance man  could  see  no  harm  in  that ! It  is 
touched  smartly  by  the  rim  of  the  red-horse, — it  is 
brushed  by  the  hooshier,— it  rings  against  the 
badger,— comes  in  companionable  contact  with 
the  wolverine, — “ My  respects  to  you,  gentlemen, 
and  luck  to  all  of  us  !” 

Here  was  a capital  commencement  with  just  the 
sort  of  salad  of  society  I have  been  long  wishing 
to  meet  with,  having  as  yet  only  tasted  its  com- 
ponent parts  in  detail.  But,  auspicious  as  was 
the  beginning,  I nearly  got  into  a difficulty  with 
my  new  acquaintances  a few  moments  afterward, 
by  handing  the  landlord  a share  of  the  reckoning ; 
and  I took  back  the  coin  forced  upon  me,  with 
many  apologies  upon  my  part  for  having  pre- 
sumed to  pay  part  of  a “ general  treat,”  while 


178 


BORDER  TALK. 


labouring  under  the  disqualifications  of  being  a 
stranger.  Room  was  then  civilly  made  for  me  by 
the  fireplace,  and,  accepting  a pipe  proffered  by 
one  of  the  company,  a few  whiffs  made  me  suffi- 
ciently sick  and  at  home  to  lay  it  by  without  fur- 
ther ceremony.  “ There’s  a smart  chance  of  cigars 
there  in  the  bar,  stranger,  if  you’d  try  some  of 
them,”  said  one  of  the  hooshiers.  “ Yes,”  echoed 
the  other  ; “ and  they  are  a heap  better  than  those 
pipes.”  “ I allow,”  rejoined  another  of  the  com- 
pany ; “ but  I wish  that  fellow  would  shut  the 
door ; he  must  think  that  we  were  all  raised  in  a 
saw-mill,  and  then  he  looks  so  peert  whenever  he 
comes  in.”  “Poor  fellow!”  ejaculated  one  who 
had  not  yet  spoken,  “ he  is  considerably  troubled 
with  youngness.” 

“ From  the  eastern  "side,  stranger  ?”  said  ano- 
ther tome;  “I’m  told  it’s  tolerable  frog  pasture. 

, Now,  here  the  soil’s  so  deep  one  can’t  raise  any 
long  sarce- — they  all  get  pulled  through  the  other 
side.  We  can  winter  our  cows,  however,  on  wood- 
en clocks,  there’s  so  many  Yankees  among  us,”  &c. 

A scattering  conversation  was  kept  up  in  similar 
quaint  expressions  for  some  time ; but  I will  not 
tire  you  with  enumerating  more  of  those  which  fell 
under  my  observation.  These  unique  terms,  in- 
deed, were  poured  out  so  copiously,  that  it  was  im- 
possible for  one’s  memory,  though  elastic  as  a pair 
of  saddle-bags,  to  retain  them.  At  last  a train* 
and  a couple  of  carioles  drove  up  to  the  door ; and 


* A rough  kind  of  sled. 


THE  KEKALAMAZOO. 


179 


I discovered,  upon  their  bundling  merrily  into  these 
vehicles,  that  the  whole  company  were  bound  for  a 
wedding.  “ Jim,”  cried  one  driver  to  another, 
snapping  his  whip,  “ let  our  horses  run  near  the 
silk.”  Jim  cracked  his  snapper,  and  the  light  ca- 
rioles  taking  the  lead,  the  more  humble  train  skim- 
med rapidly  after  them  : their  dark  shadows  were 
soon  lost  upon  the  moonlit  prairie,  and  the  sound  of 
their  bells  died  away  in  the  distance  by  the  time  I 
had  regained  my  now  solitary  seat  by  the  fire. 

I have  had  but  a sorry  time  since  leaving  the 
agreeable  company  I spoke  of  in  my  last.  To-day, 
indeed,  the  weather,  though  cold  and  windy,  has 
been  clear  ; but,  on  the  two  previous,  I rode  for  the 
whole  time  through  alternate  snow  and  sleet,  which 
the  wind  at  times  blew  so  directly  in  my  face  as  to 
make  it  almost  impossible  to  proceed.  In  one  in- 
stance, while  making  my  way  through  a dense 
forest  of  twelve  or  fourteen  miles  between  the  open- 
ings, without  a cabin  by  the  way,  my  horse  stopped 
suddenly,  and  looking  about  ten  paces  a-head,  I saw 
a couple  of  deer  standing  immediately  in  my  path, 
and  gazing  on  me  with  the  most  perfect  unconcern ; 
but  my  fingers  were  so  numb  with  cold  that  I was 
unable  to  cock  my  gun,  while  the  timid  creatures 
slowly  retired  within  the  depths  of  the  forest.  The 
Kekalamazoo  wound  through  this  wood  ; but  the 
under  growth  of  timber  was  so  very  heavy,  that  its 
waters,  though  within  a few  yards  of  me,  were 
rarely  discernible  ; and  their  ample  flow,  when  seen 
as  now  swollen  by  the  troubled  current  of  Battle 
Creek  and  other  tributaries,  though  capable  of  bear- 


180 


PRAIRIE  RONDE. 


ing  boats  of  considerable  burden,  possessed  less 
charms  for  me  than  when  I first  struck  the  slender 
rill  as  it  leaped  unsullied  from  its  virgin  fountain, 
and  went  singing  on  its  course.  Still  it  was  with 
regret,  when  at  last  ferried  over  the  Kekalamazoo, 
so  long  my  only  companion,  that,  on  turning  my 
horse’s  head  to  the  souh,  I took  leave  of  its  Arca- 
dian banks  for  ever. 

I passed  the  previous  night  at  the  little  hamlet 
of  Comstock,  where  an  enterprising  young  gentle- 
man, after  whom  the  place  is  called,  having  the 
advantage  of  a good  mill-site,  is  creating  a flourish- 
ing establisment  around  him  ; a frame  store  and 
several  log  cabins,  with  two  or  three  mills,  al- 
ready giving  some  importance  to  the  situation  in 
a new  country.  My  ride  of  to-day,  having  started 
late,  brought  me,  about  sunset,  a distance  of  twenty 
miles,  to  the  verge  of  Prairie  Ronde  ; the  inter- 
mediate country  consisting  partly  of  burr-oak  plains, 
broken  sometimes  by  the  short  round  hills  I have 
before  described,  and  partly  of  broad  grassy  mea- 
dows, running  sometimes  into  marshes,  and  occa- 
sionally watered  by  some  clear  stream,  whose 
sandy  bottom  would  contrast  strongly  with  its  low 
sedgy  brink.  The  ground  became  higher  and 
firmer  as  I approached  Prairie  Ronde  ; and  then, 
after  riding  for  a few  miles  through  the  openings, 
when  I expected  to  descend  upon  a broad  meadow 
somewhat  resembling  the  many  I have  seen  in 
Michigan,  fully  answering  to  my  pre-conceived 
ideas  of  a prairie,  I came  suddenly  upon  an  im- 
mense piece  of  cleared  table  land,  some  fifty  feet 


PRAIRIE  RONDE. 


181 


above  a pretty  lake  in  its  vicinity.  The  scattering 
houses  around  its  borders,  with  the  island  of  timber 
in  the  centre,  and  the  range  of  six  or  seven  miles 
of  prairie  on  every  side,  assured  me  that  this  was 
Prairie  Ronde  ; while  the  piercing  blast  which,  as 
the  sun  sunk  redly  on  the  opposite  side,  rushed  out 
from  his  western  resting  place  and  blew  the  snow- 
drift in  my  teeth,  made  me  eager  to  cross  the  waste 
as  rapidily  as  possible,  and  sufficiently  accounts  for 
the  pleasure  with  which  I entered  this  hospitable  inn. 
The  collection  of  houses  which  stand  sheltered  by 
this  wood  is  called  “ Schoolcraft.”  The  wood  itself, 
though  only  five  or  six  hundred  acres  in  extent,  has 
a small  lake  in  the  centre ; and  the  village,  if  not 
the  whole  settled  part  of  the  prairie,  is  distinguished 
by  the  number  of  fine  running  horses,  blooded  dogs, 
and  keen  sportsmen  it  has  in  proportion  to  the  po- 
pulation. Fox-hunting  on  horseback,  with  full 
packs  of  hounds,  is  the  favourite  sport ; though 
wolf,  bear,  and  badger-baiting  have  each  their 
active  followers.  The  soil  is  so  easy  of  culture, 
and  so  generous  in  its  product,  that  the  settlers, 
after  attending  to  their  necessary  avocations,  have 
ample  leisure  for  their  many  recreations.  Prairie 
Ronde,  though  like  all  parts  of  Michigan,  in  a great 
measure  settled  by  emigrants  from  the  State  of 
New- York,  is  said  to  count  a still  greater  number 
of  its  residents  from  natives  of  the  south  and  west. 
The  population  generally  was,  peihaps,  fairly  repre- 
sented at  the  assembly  to  which  I so  unceremoni- 
ously introduced  you  at  the  opening  of  the  letter.  • 

VOL.  i. — Q 


182 


MICHIGAN  SCENERY. 


Niles,  Berrien  Co.,  M.  T.,  Dec.  28. 

I have  been  now  for  two  days  in  St.  Joseph’s 
county,  considered  among  the  finest  in  Michigan ; 
having,  since  I wrote  the  above,  traversed  the 
counties  of  St.  Joseph  and  Cass,  watered  by  the 
St.  Joseph’s  river,  which  is  the  most  imposing 
looking  stream  I have  yet  seen.  A ride  of  fourteen 
miles  from  Prairie  Ronde  brought  me  fiist  to  its 
banks,  which,  rising  occasionally  fifty  or  sixty  feet 
above  the  water  in  a sudden  bluff,  look  higher  than 
those  of  any  river  I have  yet  seen  in  the  peninsula. 
You  must  already  have  gathered,  from  my  at- 
tempts at  portraying  Michigan  scenery,  that  neither 
the  grand,  the  picturesque — hardly  even  the  roman- 
tic— are  to  be  numbered  among  its  characteristics. 
“ The  beautiful”  comprehends  them  all:  and  yet 
you  can  readily  imagine,  that  that  beauty  is  neither 
tame  nor  monotonous  which  can  shine  through  the 
dreary  months  of  winter,  and  make  the  half-frozen 
and  solitary  traveller  almost  forget  its  rigours.  It 
is  true,  that  one  brought  up  in  a more  rugged  and 
broken  country  migh  often  miss  the  mountain-tops 
leaning  against  the  sky, — might  sigh  for  the  sound 
of  a cascade,  and  long  once  more  to  plant  his  foot 
upon  a cliff ; and  yet,  where  would  the  eye  more 
delight  to  wander  than  through  these  beautiful 
groves  which  in  summer  must  stretch  their  green 
arcades  on  every  side  ? where  rest  more  happily 
than  on  those  grassy  meadows  on  which  their  vis- 
tas open?  These  streams,  too,  that  sparkle  so 


ROPE  FERRY. 


183 


brightly  over  their  golden  beds,  are  they  no  substi- 
tute for  the  rushing  torrents  of  more  mountainous 
countries  ? or  does  the  lichen-covered  crag  tempt 
one’s  footsteps  more  than  this  teeming  soil,  when 
nature  has  carpeted  it  with  the  myriad  of  wild 
flowers  which  the  summer’s  sun  calls  forth?  To 
no  scenery  of  our  country  that  I have  yet  seen  is 
the  term  “x\.rcadian”  more  applicable  than  to  the 
rich  and  fairy  landscape  on  the  western  side  of  the 
peninsula,  watered  by  the  Kekalamazoo  and  the  St. 
Joseph’s. 

The  latter  stream,  when  I first  beheld  it,  was 
filled  with  floating  ice,  which  the  deep  and  rapid 
tide  brought  down  with  such  force,  that  my  horse 
recoiled  with  affright  when  I attempted  to  urge  him 
into  the  current  at  a point  where  an  old  woman 
told  me  was  the  usual  place  of  fording.  A rope- 
ferry,  a quarter  of’  a mile  farther  on,  removed  the 
difficulty  ; and  finding  my  way  along  a rich  bottom, 
where  the  trail  was  so  encumbered  with  vines,  that 
it  was  difficult,  even  at  this  season,  to  keep  it,  I 
hailed  a grim-looking  Charon,  with  a shock  head  of 
hair,  attired  in  a green  hunting  shirt,  who  was 
standing  in  the  doorway  of  a cabin  on  the  opposite 
side ; and  crossing  for  me  in  his  scow,  I was  soon 
conveyed  across  the  wintry  torrent.  The  country 
now  became  gradually  more  populous  as  I ap- 
proached the  village  and  prairie  of  White  Pigeon. 
I had  ridden  fourteen  miles  in  the  morning  without 
seeing  the  sign  of  a habitation  ; and  as  one  meets 
with  neither  travellers  nor  emigrants  at  this  season, 
there  is  •some  company  even  in  the  smoke  of  a 


184 


ENGLISH  SETTLERS. 


chimney,  though  you  do  not  stop  to  warm  your  fin- 
gers by  the  fire  beneath  it.  I expected  long  be- 
fore this  to  have  fallen  in  with  a most  agreeable 
companion,  in  a gentleman  of  the  country,  whom  I 
met  with  at  Detroit,  and  who  is  a considerable  pro- 
prietor on  the  St.  Joseph’s.  Having  a fine  taste  for 
natural  scenery,  and  being  one  of  the  best  rifle 
shots  that  J have  ever  heard  of,  I anticipated  much 
pleasure  and  advantage  from  his  company  and  gui- 
dance through  the  western  part  of  the  peninsula. 

But  my  journey  through  Michigan  is  now  nearly 
finished,  as  it  began,  entirely  alone.  At  White 
Pigeon,  where  I found  quite  a pretty  village  of  four 
years’  growth,  I seemed,  in  getting  upon  the  post- 
route from  Detroit  to  Chicago,  to  get  back  once 
more  to  an  old  country.  I found  a good  inn  and 
attendance  at  Savary’s,  and  discovered,  by  the  tra- 
vellers going  north  and  south,  that  travelling  was 
not  as  yet  completely  frozen  up.  There  are  a 
great  many  English  emigrants  settled  upon  this 
prairie,  who,  I am  told,  are  successfully  introducing 
here  the  use  of  live  hedges  instead  of  fences  in  far- 
ming. They  are  generally  of  a respectable  class, 
and  seem  to  be  quite  popular  with  the  American 
settlers. 

The  morning  was  fine  when  I left  White  Pigeon 
to  day  ; and  as  the  sun  shot  down  through  the  tall 
woods,  nothing  could  be  more  cheering  than  my 
ride  among  the  beautiful  hills  of  Cass  county. 
The  road,  which  is  remarkably  good,  meanders 
through  ravines  for  a distance  of  many  miles,  the 
conical  hills  resting  upon  the  plain  in  such*  a man- 


AG  RICULTURE . LAKE  S . 


185 


ner  a^barely  to  leave  a wheel  track  between  them, 
except  when  at  times  some  pretty  lake  or  broad 
meadow  pushes  its  friths  far  within  their  embrace. 
A prairie  of  some  extent  was  to  be  traversed  on  this 
side  of  these  eminences,  and  the  floating  ice  on  the 
St.  Joseph’s  was  glistening  beneath  its  shadowy 
banks  in  the  rays  of  the  cold  winter  moon  when  I 
reached  its  borders,  and  arrived  at  the  stage  house 
in  this  flourishing  town  of  Niles.  Mine  host,  who 
does  not  seem  to  be  the  most  accommodating  per- 
son in  the  world,  has  refused  to  provide  supper  for 
myself  and  two  other  gentlemen  at  so  late  an  hour, 
assigning  as  a reason,  that  “ his  women  are  not 
made  of  steel,” — an  instance  of  cause  and  effect 
which  1 merely  put  upon  record  as  being  the  only 
one  of  the  kind  I have  met  with  in  all  Michigan. 
My  fellow  sufferers  appear  to  be  both  agreeable 
men;  and  as  we  are  to  travel  in  company  to  Chi- 
cago, the  sympathy  arising  from  our  present  mel- 
ancholy condition  may  ensure  a pleasant  intercourse 
under  happier  auspices. 

The  county  of  Cass,  through  which  I have 
passed  to-day,  has  a population  of  more  than  two 
thousand ; and  contains  seven  prairies,  of  six  or 
eight  miles  in  diameter,  besides  many  smaller  ones. 
They  produce,  when  cultivated,  from  thirty  to 
eighty  bushels  of  new  corn,  or  forty  of  wheat,  to 
the  acre.  The  mode  of  planting  the  former  is  to 
run  a furrow,  drop  the  corn  in,  and  cover  it  with  a 
succeeding  furrow,  which  is  planted  in  a similar 
way,  and  the  field  is  rarely  either  ploughed  or  hoed 
after  planting.  There  are  several  pretty  lakes  in 

Q 2 


186  WANT  OF  SOCIETY. 

this  county  ; but  it  is.  not  so  well  watered  as  St. 
Joseph’s,  through  which  I passed’yesterday ; which, 
for  local  advantages  of  every  kind,  as  well  as  fer- 
tility of  soil,  is  generally  considered  one  of  the  best 
in  the  peninsula.  I like  Kalamazoo  county,  how- 
ever, as  much  as  any  part  of  Michigan  I have  seen. 
I am  now  within  eight  or  ten  miles  of  the  Indian 
boundary,  and  some  twenty  or  thirty  only  from  the 
shores  of  Lake  Michigan,  having  described  nearly 
a semicircle  in  my  tour  through  the  peninsula,  in- 
cluding, with  some  deviations,  the  counties  of 
Wayne,  Monroe,  Lenawee,  and  Washtenaw  on  the 
east,  Jackson  in  the  centre,  and  Calhoun,  Kalama- 
zoO}  St.  Joseph’s,  Cass,  and  Berrien  on  the  west ; 
and  I have  not  met  a resident  in  that  whole  range 
but  what  was  pleased  with  the  country,  and,  I may 
almost  say,  attached  to  its  soil.  The  females,  in- 
deed, will  sometimes  murmur ; and  in  some  remote 
places  I have  heard  those  whose  conversations 
indicated  that  they  had  not  been  brought  up  with 
the  most  ordinary  advantages  complain  of  “ the 
want  of  society !”  But  even  these  would  love  to 
dilate  upon  the  beauties  of  the  country  when  the 
flowers  were  in  bloom.  Others,  again,  who  had 
been  more  gently  nurtured,  would  sigh  at  one  mo- 
ment for  the  comforts  and  elegancies  of  their  ma- 
ternal homes,  while  their  eyes  would  kindle  with 
enthusiasm  the  next,  when  speaking  of  the  appear- 
ance which  the  woods  around  their  new  dwellings 
wore  in  summer.  Small  communities  form  but 
slowly  in  a country  where  the  settlers,  instead  of 
gradually  pushing  their  way  together  into  the 


INTERNAL  COMMUNICATION, 


187 


depths  of  the  forest,  as  at  the  eastward,  drive  their 
wagons  in  any  direction  a hundred  miles  through 
the  openings,  and  plant  themselves  down  a day’s 
journey  apart,  just  where  their  fancy  prompts  them. 
This  will  account  for  my  so  often  lighting  upon  a 
pleasant  hamlet,  after  a day’s  travel  through  a 
perfect  wilderness. 

The  river  St.  Joseph  debouches  into  Lake  Mi- 
chigan in  this  county ; and  as  a steamboat  will 
probably  run  the  next  season  from  the  town  rapidly 
growing  at  its  mouth  to  Chicago,  a railroad  from 
Detroit  to  this  steamboat  harbour  is  only  wanting 
to  bring  the  visiter  of  Niagara  within  a few  days’ 
travel  of  Chicago,  and  carry  him  through  the 
flowery  groves  of  Michigan  to  one  of  the  most 
important  points  in  the  Union,  and  what  may  be 
termed  the  central  head  of  the  Mississippi  valley. 
Delmonico  may  then  stock  his  larder  with  grouse 
from  the  meadows  of  Michigan,  and  Gassin  try  his 
skill  upon  the  delicious  fish  that  swarm  her  lakes 
and  rivers ; (would  that  I could  at  this  moment 
witness  some  of  their  curious  orgies  !)  while  sports- 
men will  think  no  more  of  a trip  hither  than  they 
do  now  of  an  excursion  to  Islip,  Rayner-South,  or 
Patchogue,  In  the  mean  time  I have  secured  you 
the  seeds  of  more  than  twenty  varieties  of  wild 
flowers,  which  I shall  send  to  their  destination  as 
soon  as  possible,  lest,  from  the  rapid  increase  of 
internal  communication,  they  may  lose  half  their 
value  from  ceasing  to  be  a rarity. 


188 


RAILROAD  TRAVELLING. 


LETTER  XV. 

, V 

Railroad  Travelling — Our  Journey — Land  of  the  Hooshiers — 
Forest  Scene — A French  Driver — His  Disaster — Poor  Victor — 
Lake  Michigan — The  Lake  Shore — Rustic  Hostelrie — Travelling 
Companions — Journey  resumed — Chicago — A Ball — Chicago  Co- 
tillons— The  Ladies— A Puzzle — Wishes. 

Door  Prairie,  Indiana,  Dec.  29, 1833. 

Being  now  on  the  mail  route  between  Detroit 
and  Chicago,  I am  travelling  very  comfortably  in 
a four-horse  wagon,  with  the  gentlemen  mentioned 
in  my  last.  I found  my  horse’s  back  so  chafed  at 
White  Pigeon,  that  it  was  unpleasant  to  use  him 
longer  under  the  saddle  ; and  having  met  with  my 
trunk  at  Niles,  which  was  forwarded  from  Monroe 
by  a friend,  I am  in  a measure  compelled  to  adopt 
what  is  certainly  the  most  agreeable  mode  of 
travelling  at  this  season  through  a bleak  prairie 
country. 

The  cold  winter  moon  was  still  riding  high  in 
the  heavens  as  we  ferried  over  the  St.  Joseph’s  at 
Niles  this  morning.  A low  sided  scow  was  the 
means  of  conveyance  ; and,  after  breaking  the  solid 
ice  near  the  shore  to  loose  from  our  moorings,  it 
required  some  pains  to  shun  the  detached  cakes 
which  came  driving  down  the  centre  of  the  dark- 
rolling river ; while,  near  the  opposite  shore,  they 


OUR  JOURNEY, 


189 


had  become  so  wedged  and  frozen  together,  that 
it  required  considerable  exertion  to  break  a way 
with  our  long  poles,  and  make  good  our  landing. 
At  length,  ascending  the  bank,  a beautiful  plain, 
with  a clump  of  trees  here  and  there  upon  its  sur- 
face, opened  to  our  view.  The  establishment  of 
the  Carey  Mission,*  a long,  low,  white  building, 
could  be  distinguished  afar  off  faintly  in  the  moon- 
light ; while  several  winter!  lodges  of  the  Potta- 
wattamies,  three  or  four  hundred  of  which  tribe 
inhabit  this  fine  district,  were  plainly  perceptible 
over  the  f)iain.  The  moon,  indeed,  shone  with  an 
effulgence  such  as  1 have  never  witnessed,  except 
beneath  the  pearly  skies-  of  the  West.  Morning 
came  at  last ; still,  but  excessively  cold  ; our  horses’ 
manes  and  our  own  clothes  being  covered  with  hoar- 
frost, while  each  blade  of  grass  that  shot  its  wilted 
spear  above  the  snow  glistened  like  a diamond’s 
point  beneath  the  uprising  sun. 

About  ten  o’clock  we  reached  a shantee  on  Terre 
Coupe  prairie,  and  finding  no  one  at  home,  we 
rummaged  the  establishment  to  find  the  materials 
for  a breakfast,  which  we  cooked  ourselves,  and 
left  payment  upon  the  table.  Our  next  stage  carried 
us  over  a rolling  prairie  to  Laporte.  The  un- 
dulating surface  resembled  the  ground-swell  of  the 
sea  ; and  nothing  could  be  more  dreary  at  this 
season,  when  the  bright  sky  of  the  morning  became 
overcast,  than  moving  mile  after  mile  over  this 
frozen  lake — for  such  it  appeared — with  nothing 
but  its  monotonous  swell  to  catch  the  eye  wherever 
its  glances  roamed. 

* See  note  H. 


t See  note  I. 


190 


LAND  OF  THE  HOOSHIERS. 


It  was  afternoon  when  we  reached  the  little 
settlement  of  Laporte,  which  is  situated  on  a 
pretty  lake,  in  a prairie  of  the  same  name,  the 
skirts  of  which  are  beautifully  timbered.  There 
was  just  light  enough  remaining  when  we  reached 
our  present  stopping  place,  a comfortable  log  cabin, 
to  see  the  opening  ahead  through  the  timber,  from 
which  this  prairie  takes  its  name.  It  forms  a 
door  opening  upon  an  arm  of  the  Grand  Prairie, 
which  runs  through  the  states  of  Indiana  and 
Illinois,  and  extends  afterward,  if  I mistake  not,  to 
the  base  of  the  Rocky  Mountains.  I am  now  in 
the  land  of  the  Hooshiers , and  find  that  long-haired 
race  much  more  civilized  than  some  of  their  western 
neighbours  are  willing  to  represent  them.  The 
term  “Hooshier,”  like  that  of  Yankee,  or  Buck-eye, 
first  applied  contemptuously,  has  now  become  a 
soubriquet , that  bears  nothing  invidious  with  it  to 
the  ear  of  an  Indianian.  This  part  of  the  state  is 
as  yet  but  thinly  settled ; but  the  land  is  rapidly 
coming  into  market,  and  it  is  calculated  to  support 
a dense  population.  A new  town  and  harbour, 
called  “ Michigan  City,”  about  thirty  miles  off,  on 
the  shore  of  the  lake,  is  fast  coming  into  notice,  and 
giving  a spur  to  the  settlements  in  these  parts. 
The  country  is,  however,  still  wild  enough,  and  I 
have  a wilder  yet  to  pass  before  reaching  Chicago. 

V - ' 

Chicago,  Jan.  1,  1834. 

We  left  the  prairie  on  the  east,  after  passing 
through  “ the  door,”  and  entered  a forest,  where  the 
enormous  black  walnut  and  sycamore  trees  cum- 
bered the  soil  with  trunks  from  which  a com- 


FOREST  SCENE. 


191 


fortable  dwelling  might  be  excavated.  The  road 
was  about  as  bad  as  could  be  imagined  ; and  after 
riding  so  long  over  prairies  as  smooth  as  a turn- 
pike, the  stumps  and  fallen  trees  over  which  we 
were  compelled  to  drive,  with  the  deep  mud-holes 
into  which  our  horses  continually  plunged,  were 
anything  but  agreeable.  Still,  the  stupendous 
vegetation  of  the  forest  interested  me  sufficiently 
to  make  the  time,  otherwise  enlivened  by  good 
company,  pass  with  sufficient  fleetness,  though 
we  made  hardly  more  than  two  miles  an  hour 
throughout  the  stage.  At  last,  after  passing 
several  untenanted  sugar  camps*  of  the  Indians, 
we  reached  a cabin,  prettily  situated  on  the  banks 
of  a lively  brook  winding  through  the  forest.  A 
little  Frenchman  waited  at  the  door  to  receive  our 
horses,  while  a couple  of  half-intoxicated  Indians 
followed  us  into  the  house,  in  the  hope  of  getting 
ctnetos  (vulgarly,  “a  treat”)  from  the  new  comers. 
The  usual  settlers’  dinner  of  fried  bacon,  venison 
cutlets,  hot  cakes,  and  wild  honey,  with  some  tolera- 
ble tea  and  Indian  sugar — as  that  made  from  the 
maple  tree  is  called  at  the  West — was  soon  placed 
before  us  ; while  our  new  driver,  the  frizzy  little 
'Frenchman  already  mentioned,  harnessed  a fresh 
team,  and  hurried  us  into  the  wagon  as  soon  as  pos- 
sible. The  poor  little  fellow  had  thirty  miles  to 
drive  before  dark,  on  the  most  difficult  part  of  the 
route  of  the  line  between  Detroit  and  Chicago.  It 
was  easy  to  see  that  he  knew  nothing  of  driving, 


* See  Note  J. 


192 


A FRENCH  DRIVER. 


the  moment  he  took  his  reins  in  hand ; but  when 
one  of  my  fellow  travellers  mentioned  that  little 
Victor  had  been  preferred  to  his  present  situation 
of  trust  from  the  indefatigable  manner  in  which, 
before  the  stage  route  was  established  last  season, 
he  had  for  years  carried  the  mail  through  this  lonely 
country — swimming  rivers  and  sleeping  in  the  woods 
at  all  seasons — it  was  impossible  to  dash  the  mix- 
ture of  boyish  glee  and  official  pomposity  with 
which  he  entered  upon  his  duties,  by  suggesting 
any  improvement  as  to  the  mode  of  performing 
them.  Away  then  we  went,  helter-skelter,  through 
the  woods — scrambled  through  a brook,  and  gallop- 
ing over  an  arm  of  the  prairie,  struck  again  into  the 
forest.  A fine  stream,  called  the  Calamine,  made 
our  progress  here  more  gentle  for  a moment.  But 
immediately  on  the  other  side  of  the  river  was  an 
Indian  trading-post,  and  our  little  French  Phaeton — 
who,  to  tell  the  truth,  had  been  repressing  his  fire 
for  the  last  half-hour,  while  winding  among  the  de- 
cayed trees  and  broken  branches  of  the  forest — 
could  contain  no  longer.  He  shook  the  reins  on 
his  wheel-horses,  and  cracked  up  his  leaders,  with 
an  air  that  would  have  distinguished  him  on  the 
Third  Avenue,  and  been  envied  at  Cato’s.  He  rises 
in  his- seat  as  he  passes  the  trading  house;  he 
sweeps  by  like  a whirlwind  : but  a female  peeps  from 
the  portal,  and  it  is  all  over  with  poor  Victor. 

“ Ah,  wherefore  did  he  turn  to  look  ? 

That  pause,  that  fatal  gaze  he  took, 

Hath  doomed — ” 

his  discomfiture.  The  infuriate  car  strikes  a stump, 


POOR  VICTOR. 


193 


and  the  unlucky  youth  shoots  off  at  a tangent,  as  if 
he  were  discharged  from  a mortar.  The  whole 
operation  was  completed  with  such  velocity,  that 
the  first  intimation  I had  of  what  was  going  for- 
ward, was  on  finding  myself  two  or  three  yards 
from  the  shattered  wagon,  with  a tall  Indian  in  a 
wolf-skin  cap  standing  over  me.  My  two  fellow 
passengers  were  dislodged  from  their  seats  with  the 
same  want  of  ceremony ; but  though  the  disjecta 
membra  of  our  company  were  thus  prodigally  scat- 
tered about,  none  of  us,  providentially,  received  in- 
jury. Poor  Victor  was  terribly  crest-fallen;  and 
had  he  not  unpacked  his  soul  by  calling  upon  all 
the  saints  in  the  calendar,  in  a manner  more  familiar 
than  respectful,  I verily  believe  that  his  tight  little 
person  wrould  have  exploded  like  a torpedo.  A 
very  respectable  looking  Indian  female,  the  wrife, 
probably,  of  the  French  gentleman  who  owned  the 
post,  came  out,  and  civilly  furnished  us  with  basins 
and  towels  to  clean  our  hands  and  faces,  which 
were  sorely  bespattered  with  mud ; while  the  gray 
old  Indian  before  mentioned  assisted  in  collecting 
our  scattered  baggage. 

The  spot  where  our  disaster  occurred  was  a 
sequestered,  wild  looking  place.  The  trading  es- 
tablishment consisted  of  six  or  eight  log  cabins,  of 
a most  primitive  construction,  all  of  them  gray  with 
age,  and  so  grouped  on  the  bank  of  the  river  as  to 
present  an  appearance  quite  picturesque.  There 
was  not  much  time,  however,  to  be  spent  in  obser- 
ving its  beauties.  The  sun  was  low,  and  we  had 
twenty-five  miles  yet  to  travel  that  night,  before 

• VOL.  i. — R 


194 


LAKE  MICHIGAN. 


reaching  the  only  shantee  on  the  lake  shore.  My 
companions  were  compelled  to  mount  two  of  the 
stage  horses*  while  I once  more  put  the  saddle  on 
mine  ; and  leaving  our  trunks  to  follow  a week 
hence,  we  slung  our  saddle-bags  across  the  crup- 
pers, and  pushed  directly  ahead. 

A few  miles’  easy  riding  through  the  woods 
brought  us  to  a dangerous  morass,  where  we  were 
compelled  to  dismount  and  drive  our  horses  across, 
one  of  the  party  going  in  advance  to  catch  them 
on  the  other  side.  A mile  or  two  of  pine  barrens 
now  lay  between  us  and  the  shore,  and  winding 
rapidly  among  the  short  hills,  covered  with  this 
stinted  growth,  we  came  suddenly  upon  a mound 
of  white  sand  at  least  fifty  feet  high.  Another  of 
these  desolate  looking  eminences,  still  higher,  lay 
beyond.  We  topped  it;  and  there,  far  away  before 
us,  lay  the  broad  bosom  of  Lake  Michigan, — the 
red  disk  of  the  sun  just  sinking  beneath  it,  and  the 
freshening  night  breeze  beginning  to  curl  its  lim- 
pid waters  on  the  shore  ; and  now,  having  gained 
their  verge,  whichever  way  we  turned,  there  was 
nothing  discernible  but  the  blackening  lake  on  one 
side  and  these  conical  hills  of  shifting  white  sand  on 
the  other.  Some  of  them,  as  the  night  advanced, 
and  objects  were  only  discernible  by  the  bright  star- 
light, assumed  a most  fantastic  appearance,  and 
made  me  regret  that  I could  not  visit  the  “ Sleep- 
ing Bear,”  and  other  singularly  formed  mounds, 
which  many  miles  farther  to  the  north,  3well  from 
two  to  three  hundred  feet  above  the  level  of  the 
lake.  The  deep  sand,  into  which  our  horses  sunk 


THE  LAKE  SHORE. 


195 


to  the  fetlocks,  was  at  first  most  wearisome  to  the 
poor  beasts  ; and  having  twenty  miles  yet  to  travel 
entirely  on  the  lake-shore,  we  were  compelled,  in 
spite  of  the  danger  of  quicksands,  to  move  as  near 
the  water  as  possible.  But  though  the  day  had 
been  mild,  the  night  rapidly  became  so  cold  that, 
before  we  had  proceeded  thus  many  miles,  the 
beach  twenty  yards  from  the  surf  was  nearly  as 
hard  as  stone,  and  the  finest  Macadamized  road  in 
the  world  could  not  compare  with  the  one  over 
which  we  now  galloped.  Nor  did  we  want  lamps 
to  guide  us  on  our  wray.  Above,  the  stars  stood 
out  like  points  of  light;  while  the  resplendent  fires 
of  the  Aurora  Borealis,  shooting  along  the  heavens 
on  our  right,  were  mocked  by  the  livid  glare  of  the 
Kankakee  marshes,  burning  behind  the  sand  hills 
on  our  left.  The  lake  alone  looked  dark  and  low- 
ering ; though  even  its  gathering  waves  would  smile 
when  touched  with  light  as  they  broke  upon  the 
shore.  The  intense  cold  seemed  to  invigorate  our 
horses ; and  dashing  the  fire  from  the  occasional 
pebbles,  they  clattered  along  the  frozen  beach  at  a 
rate  that  brought  us  rapidly  to  our  destination  for 
the  night. 

It  was  a rude  cabin,  built  of  stems  of  the  scrub 
pine,  standing  behind  a sandy  swell  about  two  hun- 
dred yards  from  the  shore.  My  fingers  were  numb 
with  cold ; and  seeing  a rough-looking  fellow  mov- 
ing from  the  door  towards  the  horses  of  my  com- 
panions, I requested  him  to  take  mine  also ; but, 
upon  his  politely  rejoining  that  “he  was  nobody’s 
servant  but  his  own,”  I could  only  wish  him  “ a 


196 


TRAVELLING  COMPANIONS. 


more  civil  master,”  and  proceeded  to  take  care  of 
the  animal  myself.  A brake  of  stunted  evergreens 
near  by  supplied  the  place  of  a stable  ; and  passing 
a wisp  of  dry  glass  over  the  reeking  limbs  of  my 
four-footed  friend,  I flung  my  cloak  over  his  back, 
and  tethered  him  for  the  night.  The  keeper  of  the 
rustic  hostelrie  came  up  just  as  I had  got  through 
with  this  necessary  task,  and  explaining  to  me  that 
the  insolent  lounger  was  a discharged  mail  carrier, 
returned  with  me  to  the  house  for  a measure  of 
corn  ; while  I,  guided  by  the  light  flickering  through 
the  crevices  of  his  frail  dwelling,  rejoined  my  com- 
panions, nestled  with  two  other  half-frozen  travellers 
around  the  grateful  fire  within.  The  strangers 
were  both  western  men ; one,  I believe,  a farmer, 
for  some  time  settled  in  Illinois,  and  the  other  an 
Indian  trader  of  long  standing  in  Chicago.  War- 
like incidents  in  border  story,  and  the  pacific  deal- 
ings between  the  whites  and  Indians,  formed  the 
chief  subjects  of  conversation,  which  soon  became 
general,  and  was  prolonged  to  a late  hour ; finally 
the  late  treaty  held  at  Chicago — at  which,  as  you 
have  probably  seen  in  the  newspapers,  several 
thousand  Indians  were  present — was  discussed,  and 
the  anecdotes  that  were  told  of  meanness,  rapacity, 
and  highway  robbery  (in  cheating,  stealing,  and 
forcibly  taking  away)  from  the  Indians,  exaspera- 
ted me  so  that  I expressed  my  indignation  and  dis- 
gust in  unmeasured  terms.  The  worthy  trader? 
who  was  a middle-aged  man,  of  affable,  quiet  good 
manners,  seemed  to  sympathize  with  me  through- 
out ; but  the  whole  current  of  my  feelings  was 


JOURNEY  RESUMED. 


197 


totally  changed,  when,  upon  my  observing  shortly* 
afterward  to  another  gentleman,  that  “ I should 
have  liked  to  have  been  at  Chicago  a year  ago,” 
my  warm  coadjutor  ejaculated  from  under  the  bed- 
clothes, where  he  had  in  the  mean  time  bestowed 
himself,  “ Ah,  sir,  if  you  had,  the  way  in  which 
you’d  have  hook’d  an  Indian  blanket  by  this  time, 
would  be  curious.”  The  chivalric  knight  of  La 
Mancha  himself  could  not  have  sustained  heroics 
under  such  a home  thrust,  but  must  have  burst  into 
the  hearty  laugh  in  which  I was  joined  by  all  pre- 
sent. The  hour  of  sleep  for  all  at  last  arrived,  and 
a couple  of  wooden  bunks,  swung  from  the  roof, 
falling  to  the  lot  of  those  who  had  come  in  first,  I 
wrapped  myself  in  a buffalo-skin,  and  placing  my 
saddle  under  my  head  for  a pillow,  soon  “ slept  like 
a king  a term  which,  if 

“ Uneasy  lies  the  head  that  wears  a crown” 

be  true  doctrine,  is,  probably,  quasi  lucus , &c. 

Our  transient  acquaintances  parted  from  us  in  a 
most  friendly  manner  in  the  morning;  and  after 
waiting  in  vain  till  near  noon,  to  see  if  by  any 
chance  little  Victor  might  not  be  able  to  forward  our 
trunks  to  this  point,  we  mounted  once  more,  and 
pushed  ahead  with  all  speed,  to  accomplish  the  re- 
maining twenty  or  thirty  miles  between  the  shantee 
and  Chicago.  Our  route  was  still  along  the  shore; 
and  after  passing  round  the  end  of  the  lake  and 
taking  a northwardly  direction,  the  way  in  which 
the  icy  blast  wrould  come  down  the  bleak  shore  of 
the  lake  “ was  a caution.”  We  galloped  at  full 

tt  2 


198 


CHICAGO. 


'Speed,  every  man  choosing  his  own  route  along  the 
beach,  our  horses’  hoofs  ringing  the  while  as  if  it 
were  a pavement  of  flint  beneath  them.  The 
rough  ice  piled  up  on  the  coast  prevented  us  from 
watering  our  beasts;  and  we  did  not  draw  a rein 
till  the  rushing  current  of  the  Calamine,  which 
debouches  into  Lake  Michigan  some  ten  miles 
from  Chicago,  stayed  our  course.  A cabin  on  the 
bank  gave  us  a moment’s  opportunity  to  warm,  and 
then,  being  ferried  over  the  wintry  stream,  we 
started  with  fresh  vigour,  and  crossing  about  a 
mile  of  prairie  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Chicago, 
reached  here  in  time  for  an  early  dinner.  Our 
horses  this  morning  seem  none  the  worse  for  this 
furious  riding;  their  escape  from  ill  consequences 
being  readily  attributable  to  the  excellence  of  the 
road,  and  the  extreme  coldness  of  the  weather  while 
travelling  it.  For  my  own  part,  I never  felt  better 
than  after  this  violent  burst  of  exercise. 

We  had  not  been  here  an  hour  before  an  invita- 
tion to  a public  ball  was  courteously  sent  to  us  by 
the  managers ; and  though  my  soiled  and  travel- 
worn  riding-dress  was  not  exactly  the  thing  to 
present  one’s  self  in  before  ladies  of  an  evening, 
yet,  in  my  earnestness  to  see  life  on  the  frontier,  I 
easily  allowed  all  objections  to  be  overruled  by  my 
companions,  and  we  accordingly  drove  to  the  house 
in  which  the  ball  was  given.  It  was  a frame 
building,  one  of  the  few  as  yet  to  be  found  in  Chi- 
cago ; which,  although  one  of  the  most  ancient 
French  trading  posts  on  the  Lakes,  can  only  date  its 
growth  as  a village  since  the  Indian  war,  eighteen 


A BALL, 


199 


months  since.*  When  I add  that  the  population 
has  quintupled  last  summer,  and  that  but  few 
mechanics  have  come  in  with  the  prodigious  in- 
crease of  residents,  you  can  readily  imagine  that  the 
' influx  of  strangers  far  exceeds  the  means  of  ac- 
commodation ; wrhile  scarcely  a house  in  the  place, 
however  comfortable  looking  outside,  contains  more 
than  two  or  three  finished  rooms.  In  the  present 
instance,  we  were  ushered  into  a tolerably  sized 
dancing  room,  occupying  the  second  story  of  the 
house,  and  having  its  unfinished  walls  so  inge- 
niously covered  with  pine  branches  and  flags 
borrowed  from  the  garrison,  that,  with  the  white- 
washed ceiling  above,  it  presented  a very  complete 
and  quite  pretty  appearance.  It  was  not  so  warm, 
however,  that  the  fires  of  cheerful  hickory,  which 
roared  at  either  end,  could  have  been  readly  dis- 
pensed with.  An  orchestra  of  unplaned  boards  was 
raised  against  the  wall  in  the  centre  of  the  room  ; 
the  band  consisting  of  a dandy  negro  with  his  violin, 
a fine  military  looking  bass  drummer  from  the  fort, 
and  a volunteer  citizen,  who  alternately  played 
an  accompaniment  upon  the  flute  and  triangle. 
Blackee,  who  flourished  about  with  a great  many 
airs  and  graces,  was  decidedly  the  king  of  the  com- 
pany; and  it  was  amusing,  while  his  head  followed 
the  direction  of  his  fiddle-bowT  with  pertinacious 
fidelity,  to  see  the  Captain  Manual-like  precision 
with  which  the  soldier  dressed  to  the  front“on  one 
side,  and  the  nonchalant  air  of  importance  which 
the  cit  attempted  to  preserve  on  the  other. 

* See  note  K, 


200 


CHICAGO  COTILLONS. 


As  for  the  company,  it  was  such  a complete 
medley  of  all  ranks,  ages,  professions,  trades,  and 
occupations,  brought  together  from  all  parts  of  the 
world,  and  now  for  the  first  time  brought  together, 
that  it  was  amazing  to  witness  the  decorum  with 
which  they  commingled  on  this  festive  occasion. 
The  managers  (among  whom  were  some  officers  of 
the  garrison)  must  certainly  be  au  fait  at  dressing 
a lobster  and  mixing  regent’s  punch,  in  order  to 
have  produced  a harmonious  compound  from  such 
a collection  of  contrarieties.  The  gayest  figure 
that  was  ever  called  by  quadrille-playing  Benoit 
never  afforded  me  half  the  amusement  that  did  these 
Chicago  cotillons.  Here  you  might  see  a veteran 
officer  in  full  uniform  balancing  to  a tradesman’s 
daughter  still  in  her  short  frock  and  trowsers,  while 
there  the  golden  aiguillette  of  a handsome  surgeon 
flapped  in  unison  with  the  glass  beads  upon  a 
scrawney  neck  of  fifty.  In  one  quarter,  the  high- 
placed  buttons  of  a linsey-woolsey  coat  would  be 
dos  a dos  to  the  elegantly  turned  shoulders  of  a 
delicate  looking  southern  girl : and  in  another,  a 
pair  of  Cinderella-like  slippers  would  chassez  cross 
with  a brace  of  thick-soled  broghans,  in  making 
which,  one  of  the  lost  feet  of  the  Colossus  of 
Rhodes  may  have  served  for  a last.  Those  raven 
locks,  dressed  d la  Madonne,  over  eyes  of  jet,  and 
touching  a cheek  where  blood  of  a deeper  hue 
mingle  with  the  less  glowing  current  from  Euro- 
pean veins,  tell  of  a lineage  drawn  from  the  original 
owners  of  the  soil ; while  these  golden  tresses, 
floating  away  from  eyes  of  heaven’s  own  colour 


A PUZZLE. 


201 


over  a neck  of  alabaster,  recall  the  Gothic  ancestry 
of  some  of  “ England’s  born.”  How  piquantly  do 
these  trim  and  beaded  leggins  peep  from  under  that 
simple  dress  of  black,  as  its  tall  nut-brown  wearer 
moves,  as  if  unconsciously,  through  the  graceful 
mazes  of  the  dance.  How  divertingly  do  those  in- 
flated gigots,  rising  like  windsails  from  that  little 
Dutch-built  hull,  jar  against  those  tall  plumes  which 
impend  over  them  like  a commodore’s  pennant  on 
the  same  vessel. 

But  what  boots  all  these  incongruities,  when  a 
spirit  of  festive  good  humour  animates  every  one 
present  ? “ It  takes  all  kinds  of  people  to  make 
a world,”  (as  I hear  it  judiciously  observed  this  side 
of  the  mountains,)  and  why  should  not  all  these 
kinds  of  people  be  represented  as  well  in  a ball- 
room as  in  a legislature  ? At  all  events,  if  I wished 
to  give  an  intelligent  foreigner  a favourable  opinion 
of  the  manners  and  deportment  of  my  countrymen 
in  the  aggregate,  I should  not  wish  a better  oppor- 
tunity, after  explaining  to  him  the  materials  of 
which  it  was  composed,  and  the  mode  in  which 
they  were  brought  together  from  every  section  of 
the  Union,  than  was  afforded  by  this  very  ball, 
“ This  is  a scene  of  enchantment  to  me,  sir,”  ob- 
served an  officer  to  me,  recently  exchanged  to  this 
post,  and  formerly  stationed  here.  “ There  were 
but  a few  traders  around  the  fort  when  IJast  visited 
Chicago ; and  now  I can’t  contrive  where  the  devil 
all  these  well  dressed  people  have  come  from  !”  I 
referred  him  to  an  old  resident  of  three  months 
standing,  to  whom  I had  just  been  introduced,  but 


202 


INTENSE  COLD. 


lie  could  throw  no  light  upon  the  subject;  and  we 
left  the  matter  of  peopling  Chicago  in  the  same 
place  where  philosophers  have  put  the  question  of 
the  original  peopling  of  the  continent.  I made 
several  new  acquaintances  at  this  new-year’s  ball, 
and  particularly  with  the  officers  of  the  garrison, 
from  whose  society  I promise  myself  much  plea- 
sure during  my  stay. 

The  geographical  position  of  Chicago  is  so  im- 
portant, that  I must  give  you  a more  minute  de- 
scription of  the  place  in  my  next.  Would  that  in 
folding  this  I could  enclose  you  half  the  warm 
wishes  for  your  welfare  which  the  season  awakens 
in  my  bosom ! 


LETTER  XVI. 

Intense  Cold — Situation  of  Chicago — Rapid  Rise  of  Chicago — 
Projected  Canal — A Pacing  Match — A Hunt— Mission  of  Charity 
— A fine  Chase — Escape  of  the  Wolf — New  Game — Death  of  a 
Wolf — Value  of  Horses. 

Chicago,  Illinois,  Jan.  10, 1834. 

I have  been  here  more  than  ten  days,  without 
'ftffnlling  the  promise  given  in  my  last.  It  has 
been  so  cold,  indeed,  as  almost  to  render  writing 
impracticable  in  a place  so  Sbmfortless.  The 
houses  wrere  built  with  such  rapidity;  during  the 
summer,  as  to  be  mere  shells ; aJidithe  thermo- 


SITUATION  OF  CHICAGO# 


203 


meter  having  ranged  as  low  as  28  below  zero 
during  several  days,  it  has  been  almost  impossible, 
notwithstanding  the  large  fires  kept  up  by  an  at- 
tentive landlord,  to  prevent  the  ink  from  freezing 
while  using  it,  and  one’s  fingers  become  so  numb 
in  a very  few  moments  when  thus  exercised,  that, 
after  vainly  trying  to  write  in  gloves,  I have  thrown 
by  my  pen,  and  joined  the  group,  composed  of  all 
the  household,  around  the  bar-room  fire.  This 
room,  which  is  an  old  log  cabin  aside  of  the  main 
house,  is  one  of  the  most  comfortable  places  in 
town,  and  is,  of  course,  much  frequented ; business 
being,  so  far  as  one  can  judge  from  the  concourse 
that  throng  it,  nearly  at  a stand  still.  Several  per- 
sons have  been  severely  frost  bitten  in  passing  from 
door  to  door;  and  not  to  mention  the  quantity  of 
poultry  and  pigs  that  have  been  frozen,  an  ox,  I am 
told,  has  perished  from  cold  in  the  streets  at  noon- 
day. An  occasional  Indian, # wrapped  in  his 
blanket,  and  dodging  about  from  store  to  store  after 
a dram  of  whiskey ; or  a muffled-up  Frenchman, 
driving  furiously  in  his  cariole  on  the  river,  are 
almost  the  only  human  beings  abroad ; while  the 
wolves,  driven  in  by  the.  deep  snows  which  pre- 
ceded this  severe  weather,  troop  through  the  town 
after  nightfall,  and  may  be  heard  howling  continu- 
ally in  the  midst  of  it. 

The  situation  of  Chicago,  on  the  edge  of  the 
Grand  Prairie,  with  the  wdiole  expanse  of  Lake 
Michigan  before  it,  gives  the  freezing  winds  from 


* See  note  L, 


204 


RAPID  RISE  OF  CHICAGO. 


the  Rocky  Mountains  prodigious  effect,  and  renders 
a degree  of  temperature,  which  in  sheltered  situa- 
tions is  but  little  felt,  almost  painful  here. 

“The  bleak  winds 

Do  sorely  ruffle ; for  many  a mile  about, 

There’s  scarce  a bush.” 

The  town  lies  upon  a dead  level,  along  the  banks 
of  a narrow  forked  river,  and  is  spread  over  a wide 
extent  of  surface  to  the  shores  of  the  lake,  while 
vessels  of  considerable  draught  of  water  can,  by 
means  of  the  river,  unload  in  the  centre  of  the  place. 
I believe  I have  already  mentioned  that  four-fifths 
of  the  population  have  come  in  since  last  spring ; 
the  erection  of  new  buildings  during  the  summer 
has  been  in  the  same  proportion ; and  although  a 
place  of  such  mushroom  growth  can,  of  course, 
boast  of  but  little  solid  improvement  in  the  way  of 
building,  yet  contracts  have  been  made  for  the  en- 
suing season  which  must  soon  give  Chicago  much 
of  that  metropolitan  appearance  it  is  destined  so 
promptly  to  assume.  As  a place  of  business,  its 
situation  at  the  central  head  of  the  Mississippi 
Valley  will  make  it  the  New-Orleans  of  the  north ; 
and  its  easy  and  close  intercourse  with  the  most 
flourishing  eastern  cities  will  give  it  the  advantage, 
as  its  capital  increases,  of  all  their  improvements  in 
the  mode  of  living. 

There  is  one  improvement  to  be  made,  however, 
in  this  section  of  the  country,  which  will  greatly 
influence  the  permanent  value  of  property  in  Chi- 
cago. I allude  to  a canal  from  the  head  of  Lake 


PROJECTED  CANAL. 


205 


Michigan  to  the  head  of  the  steam  navigation  on 
the  Illinois,  the  route  of  which  has  been  long  since 
surveyed.  The  distance  to  be  overcome  is  some- 
thing like  ninety  miles  ; and  when  you  remember 
that  the  head  waters  of  the  Illinois  rise  within 
eleven  miles  of  Chicago  River,*  and  that  a level 
plain  of  not  more  than  eight  feet  elevation  above 
the  latter  is  the  only  intervening  obstacle,  you  can 
conceive  how  easy  it  would  be  to  drain  Lake  Mi- 
chigan into  the  Mississippi  by  this  route ; boats  of 
eighteen  tons  having  actually  passed  over  the 
intervening  prairie  at  high  water.  Lake  Michigan, 
which  is  several  feet  above  Lake  Erie,  would  afford 
such  a never-failing  body  of  water,  that  it  would 
keep  steam-boats  afloat  on  the  route  in  the  driest 
season.  St.  Louis  would  then  be  brought  compa- 
ratively near  to  New-York;  while  two-thirds  of  the 
Mississippi  Valley  would  be  supplied  by  this  route 
immediately  from  the  markets  of  the  latter.  This 
canal  is  the  only  remaining  link  wanting  to  complete 
the  most  stupendous  chain  of  inland  communication 
in  the  world.  I had  a long  conversation  this  morn- 
ing on  the  subject  with  Major  H.,  the  United  States’ 
engineer,  who  is  engaged  in  superintending  the  con- 
struction of  a pier  at  this  pltce.  He  was  polite 
enough  to  sketch  the  main  features  of  the  route  with 
his  pencil,  in  such  a manner  as  to  make  its  feasibility 
very  apparent.  The  canal  would  pass  for  the 
whole  distance  through  a prairie  country,  where 
every  production  of  the  field  and  the  garden  can 

* See  note  M. 


VOL.  I. — S 


206 


A PACING  MATCH. 


be  raised  with  scarcely  any  toil,  and  where  the 
most  prolific  soil  in  the  world  requires  no  other 
preparation  for  planting  than  passing  the  plough 
over  its  bosom.  The  most  effectual  mode  of  ma- 
king this  canal  would  be  to  give  the  lands  along  its 
banks  to  an  incorporated  company,  who  should 
construct  the  work  within  a certain  time.  The 
matter  is  now  merely  agitated  at  elections  as  a 
political  handle. 

January  13. 

I had  got  thus  far  in  a letter  to  you,  when  seve- 
ral officers  of  the  garrison,  to  whom  I am  indebted 
for  much  hospitable  attention  and  many  agreeable 
hours,  stopped  opposite  the  door  with  a train  of 
carioles,  in  one  of  which  I was  offered  a seat  to 
witness  a pacing  match  on  the  ice.  There  were 
several  ladies  with  gentlemen  in  attendance  already 
on  the  river,  all  muffled  up,  after  the  Canadian 
fashion,  in  fur  robes,  whose  gay  trimmings  present- 
ed a rich  as  well  as  most  comfortable  appearance. 
The  horses  from  which  the  most  sport  was  expected, 
were  a black  pony  bred  in  the  country,  and  a tall 
roan  nag  from  the  Jower  Mississippi.  They  paced 
at  the  rate  of  a mfte  in  something  less  than  three 
minutes.  I rode  behind  the  winning  horse  one  heat, 
and  the  velocity  with  which  he  made  our  cariole 
fly  over  the  smooth  ice  was  almost  startling.  The 
southern  horse  won  the  race  ; but  I was  told  that,  in 
nine  cases  out  of  ten,  the  nags  from  his  part  of  the 
country,  could  not  stand  against  a French  pony. 

In  the  middle  of  the  chase,  a wolf,  probably  j 


A HUNT. 


207 


roused  by  the  sleigh-bells  from  his  lair  on  the  river’s 
bank,  trotted  along  the  prairie  above,  within  gun- 
shot, calmly  surveying  the  sport.  The  uninvited 
presence  of  this  long-haired  amateur  at  once  sug- 
gested a hunt  for  the  morrow  ; and  arrangements 
were  accordingly  made  by  the  several  gentlemen 
present  for  that  most  exciting  of  sports,  a wolf-chase 
on  horseback. 

It  was  a fine  bracing  morning,  with  the  sun  shining 
cheerily  through  the  still  cold  atmosphere  far  over 
the  snow-covered  prairie,  when  the  party  assembled 
in  front  of  my  lodgings  to  the  number  of  ten  horse- 
men, all  well  mounted  and  eager  for  the  sport.  The 
hunt  was  divided  into  two  squads  ; one  of  which 
was  to  follow  the  windings  of  the  river  on  the  ice, 
and  the  other  to  make  a circuit  on  the  prairie.  A. 
pack  of  dogs,  consisting  of  a grayhound  or  two  for 
running  the  game,  with  several  of  a heavier  and 
fiercer  breed  for  pulling  it  down,  accompanied  each 
party.  I was  attached  to  that  which  took  the  river ; 
and  it  was  a beautiful  sight,  as  our  friends  trotted  off 
in  the  prairie,  to  see  their  different  coloured  capotes 
and  gayly  equipped  horses  contrasted  with  the  bright 
carpet  of  spotless  white  over  which  they  rode; 
while  the  sound  of  their  voices  was  soon  lost  to  our 
ears,  as  we  descended  to  the  channel  of  the  river, 
and  their  lessening  figures  were  hid  from  our  view  by 
the  low  brush  which  in  some  places  skirted  its  banks. 
The  brisk  trot  into  which  we  now  broke,  brought  us 
rapidly  to  the  place  of  meeting,  where  to  the  dis- 
appointment of  each  party,  it  was  found  that  neither 
had  started  any  game.  We  now  spread  ourselves 


208 


A MISSION  OF  CHARITY. 


into  a broad  line,  about  gunshot  apart  from  each 
other,  and  began  thus  advancing  into  the  prairie. 
We  had  not  swept  it  thus  more  than  a mile,  when 
a shout  on  the  extreme  left,  with  the  accelerated 
pace  of  the  furthermost  riders  in  that  direction, 
told  that  they  had  roused  a wolf.  “ The  devil  take 
the  hindermost,”  was  now  the  motto  of  the  compa- 
ny, and  each  one  spurred  for  the  spot  with  all 
eagerness.  Unhappily,  however,  the  land  along 
the  bank  of  the  river,  on  the  right,  was  so  broken 
by  ravines  choked  up  with  snow,  that  it  was  impos- 
sible for  us,  who  were  half  a mile  from  the  game 
when  started,  to  come  up  at  all  with  the  two  or 
three  horsemen  who  led  the  pursuit.  Our  horses 
sunk  to  their  cruppers  in  the  deep  snow-drift.  Some 
were  repeatedly  thrown  ; and  one  or  two  breaking 
their  saddle-girths,  from  the  desperate  struggles 
their  horses  made  in  the  snow-banks,  were  compel- 
led to  abandon  the  chase  entirely.  My  stout  roan 
carried  me  bravely  through  all ; but  when  I 
emerged  from  the  last  ravine  on  the  open  plain, 
the  horsemen  who  led  the  chase,  from  some  ine- 
quality in  the  surface  of  the  prairie,  were  not  visible ; 
while  a fleet  rider,  whose  tall  figure  and  Indian 
head-dress  had  hitherto  guided  me,  had  been  just 
unhorsed,  and,  abandoning  the  game  afoot,  was 
now  wheeling  off,  apparently  with  some  other 
object  in  view.  Following  on  the  same  course, 
we  soon  encountered  a couple  of  officers  in  a train, 
who  were  just  coming  from  a mission  of  charity  in 
visiting  the  half-starved,  orphans  of  a poor  woman 
who  was  frozen  to  death  on  the  prairie,  a day  or 


A FINE  CHASE. 


209 


two  since — the  wolves  having  already  picked  her 
bones  before  her  fate  became  known.  One  by  one, 
the  whole  squad  to  which  I belonged,  collected 
around  to  make  inquiries  about  the  poor  children ; 
and  then,  as  our  horses  generally  were  yet  in 
good  condition,  we  scattered  once  more  over  the 
prairie,  with  the  hope  of  rousing  more  game. 

Not  ten  minutes  elapsed  before  a wolf,  breaking 
from  the  dead  weeds  which,  shooting  eight  or  ten 
feet  above  the  level  of  the  snow,  indicated  the  banks 
of  a deep  ravine,  dashed  off  into  the  prairie,  pur- 
sued by  a horseman  on  the  right.  He  made  instantly 
for  the  deep  banks  of  the  river,  one  of  whose  wind- 
ings was  within  a few  hundred  yards.  He  had  a 
bold  rider  behind  him,  however,  in  the  gentleman 
who  led  the  chase  (a  young  educated  half-blood, 
well  connected  at  Chicago).  The  precipitous  bank 
of  the  stream  did  not  retard  this  hunter  for  a mo- 
ment ; but,  dashing  down  to  the  bed  of  the  river, 
he  was  hard  upon  the  wolf  before  he  could  ascend 
the  elevation  on  the  opposite  side.  Our  whole 
squad  reached  the  open  prairie  beyond  in  time  to 
take  part  in  the  chase.  Nothing  could  be  more 
beautiful.  There  was  not  an  obstacle  to  oppose  us 
in  the  open  plain ; and  all  our  dogs  having  fol- 
lowed tKe  other  division  of  our  company,  nothing 
remained  but  to  drive  the  wolf  to  death  on 
horseback.  Away,  then,  we  went,  shouting  on  his 
track ; the  hotly-pursued  beast  gaining  on  us  when- 
ever the  crust  of  a deep  snow-drift  gave  him  an 
advantage  over  the  horse,  and  we  in  our  turn  nearly 
riding  over  him  when  we  came  to  ground  com- 

s 2 


210 


ESCAPE  OF  THE  WOLF. 


paratively  bare.  The  sagacious  animal  became  at 
last  aware  that  his  course  would  soon  be  up  at  this 
rate,  and  turning  rapidly  in  his  tracks  as  we  were 
scattered  over  the  prairie,  he  passed  through  our 
line,  and  made  at  once  again  for  the  liver.  He  was 
cut  off  and  turned  in  a moment  by  a horseman  on 
the  left,  who  happened  to  be  a little  behind  the 
rest ; and  now  came  the  keenest  part  of  the  sport. 
The  wolf  would  double  every  moment  upon  his 
tracks,  while  each  horseman  in  succession  would 
make  a dash  at  and  turn  him  in  a different  direction. 
Twice  I was  near  enough  to  strike  him  with  a 
horsewhip,  and  once  he  was  under  my  horse’s  feet; 
while  so  furiously  did  each  rider  push  at  him,  that 
as  we  brushed  by  each  other  and  confronted  horse 
to  horse,  while  riding  from  different  quarters  at  full 
speed,  it  required  one  somewhat  used  “ to  turn  and 
wind  a fiery  Pegasus”  to  maintain  his  seat  at  all. 
The  rascal,  who  would  now  and  then  look  over  his 
shoulder  and  gnash  his  teeth,  seemed  at  last  as  if 
he  was  about  to  succumb  ; when,  /after  running  a 
few  hundred  yards  in  an  oblique  direction  from  the 
river,  he  suddenly  veered  his  course,  at  a moment 
when  every  one  thought  his  strength  was  spent, 
and  gaining  the  bank  before  he  could  be  turned,  he 
disappeared  in  an  instant.  The  rider  nearest  to 
his  heels  became  entangled  in  the  lowr  boughs  of  a 
tree  which  grew  near  the  spot ; while  I,  who  fol- 
lowed next,  was  thrown  out  sufficiently  to  give  the 
wolf  time  to  get  out  of  view'  by  my  horse  bolting 
as  he  reached  the  sudden  edge  of  the  river.  The 
rest  of  the  hunt  were  consequently  at  fault  when 


NEW  GAME. 


211 


they  came  up  to  us ; and  after  trying  in  vain  to 
track  our  lost  quarry  over  the  smooth  ice  for  half 
an  hour,  we  were  most  vexatiously  compelled  to 
abandon  the  pursuit  as  fruitless,  and  proceed  to 
join  the  other  squad  of  our  party,  who  could  now 
be.  seen  at  some  distance,  apparently  making  for 
the  same  point  to  which  our  route  was  leading. 
A thicket  on  the  bank  soon  hid  them  from  our 
view  ; and  we  then  moved  more  leisurely  along  in 
order  to  breathe  our  horses.  But  suddenly  the 
distant  cry  of  hounds  gave  intimation  that  new 
game  was  afoot ; and,  on  topping  a slight  elevation, 
we  discerned  a party  of  horsemen  far  away,  with 
three  wolves  running  apparently  about  a pistol-shot 
ahead  of  them.  Our  squad  was  dispersed  in  an 
instant.  Some  struck  off  at  once  in  the  prairie,  in 
a direct  line  for  their  object,  and  were  soon  brought 
to  in  the  deep  snow-banks  ; others,  taking  a more 
circuitous  course,  proceeded  to  double  the  ravines 
that  were  filled  with  the  treacherous  drift ; and 
some,  more  fortunate,  took  to  the  frozen  river, 
where  the  clatter  of  their  -hoofs  on  the  hard  ice 
seemed  to  inspirit  their  horses  anew.  I chanced 
to  be  one  of  the  latter,  and  was  moreover  the  first 
to  catch  sight  again  of  one  of  the  animals  we  were 
pursuing,  and  find  myself  nearer  to  him  than  any  of 
our  party.  The  wolf  was  of  the  large  gray  kind. 
But  one  of  the  hunters  had  been  able  to  keep  up 
with  him , and  him  I could  distinguish  far  off  in 
the  prairie,  turning  and  winding  his  foaming  horse 
as  the  wolf  would  double  every  moment  upon  his 


212 


DEATH  OF  A WOLF. 


tracks,  while  half  a dozen  dogs,  embarrassed  in  the 
deep  snow,  were  slowly  coming  up.  I reached 
the  spot  just  as  the  wolf  first  stood  at  bay.  His 
bristling  back,  glaring  eyes,  and  ferociously  dis- 
tended jaws,  might  have  appalled  the  dogs  for  a 
moment ; when  an  impetuous  grayhound,  who  had 
been  for  some  time  pushing  through  the  snow- 
drifts with  unabated  industry,  having  now  attained 
a comparatively  clear  spot  of  ground,  leaped  with 
such  force  against  the  flank  of  the  wolf  as  to  upset 
him  in  an  instant,  while  the  grayhound  shot  far 
ahead  of  the  quarry.  He  recovered  himself  in- 
stantly, but  not  before  a fierce  powerful  hound, 
whose  thick  neck  and  broad  muzzle  indicated  a 
cross  of  the  bull-dog  blood  with  that  of  a nobler 
strain,  had  struck  him  first  upon  the  haunch,  and 
was  now  trying  to  grapple  him  by  the  throat. 
Down  again  he  went,  rolling  over  and  over  in  the 
deep  snow,  while  the  clicking  of  his  jaws,  as  he 
snapped  eagerly  at  each  mentber  of  the  pack  that 
by  turns  beset  him,  was  distinctly  audible.  'The 
powerful  dog,  already  •mentioned,  secured  him  at 
last  by  fixing  his  muzzle  deeply  into  the  breast  of 
the  prostrate  animal.  This,  however,  did  not  pre- 
vent the  wolf  giving  some  fearful  wounds  to  the 
other  dogs  which  beset  him  ; and,  accordingly,  with 
the  permission  of  the  gentleman  who  had  led  the 
chase,  I threw  myself  from  my  horse,  and  gave  the 
game  the  coup  de  grace  with  a dirk-knife  which  I 
had  about  me.  Two  of  our  party  soon  after  joined 
us,  each  with  a prairie  wolf  hanging  to  his  saddle- 


VALUE  OF  HORSES. 


213 


bow;  and  the  others  gradually  collecting,  we  re- 
turned to  Chicago,  contented  at  last  with  the  result 
of  our  morning’s  sport. 

It  wRs  with  no  enviable  feelings,  I assure  you, 
that  on  making  my  arrangements  an  hour  ago  to 
start  in  the  new  line  of  stage  coaches  which  has 
just  been  established  between  this  point  and  St. 
Louis,  I found  rilyself  compelled  to  part  with  the 
friend  to  whom  I wras  chiefly  indebted  for  my  share 
in  the  glorious  sports  I have  just  attempted  to  de- 
scribe to  you — the  four-footed  companion  of  my 
last  six  weeks’  rambles.  I remember  being  once 
struck  with  the  remark  of  an  ingenious  writer  in  the 
Library  of  Useful  Knowledge,  when,  in  discussing 
the  real  and  relative  value  of  horses,  he  observes 
that  the  commonest  hackney,  if  in  every  respect 
suiting  his  owner,  is  priceless  to  the  possessor.  A 
favourite  horse,  in  fact,  though  his  estimation  may 
only  depend  upon  the  whim  of  his  master,  is  one  of 
this  world’s  goods  which  can  never  be  thoroughly 
replaced.  It  is  not,  however,  when  the  charge  of 
such  property  falls  exclusively  to  grooms  and  others 
from  one  end  of  the  year  to  another  that  you  feel 
its  value:  the  stall-fed  .palfrey,  which  you  drive 
along  a turnpike  from  one  hotel  to  another,  and 
abandon  when  he  falls  sick  for  some  other  means 
of  conveyance,  with  as  little  concern  as  you  would 
exchange  your  trunk,  for  a portmanteau*,  or  vice 
versa , has  but  little  hold  on  one’s  feelings  in  com- 
parison with  the  hearty  animal  with  which  you 
wander  away,  where  he  meets  with  no  care  but 
such  as  you  bestow  upon  him ; and  when  you  in 


214  VALUE  OF  HORSES.  ' 

turn  become  wholly  dependent  upon  him  for  over- 
coming distances  and  difficulties  between  places  so 
remote  from  each  other,  that  not  only  your  comfort, 
but  sometimes  your  personal  safety,  depend  upon 
accomplishing  the  intervals  within  certain  periods ; 
when  you  push  ahead  through  falling  sleet,  ford 
rivers,  plunge  through  snow-banks,  or  cross  mo- 
rasses, where  the  matted  grass,  spreading  its  carpet 
over  the  shaking  slough,  embarrasses  and  wearies 
the  step  of  your  sagacious  quadruped,  while  it  pre- 
vents his  feet  from  sinking  into  the  dangerous  quag- 
mire beneath.  Three  weeks  of  such  intercourse 
between  man  and  brute  are  like  three  rainy  days 
when  one  is  shut  up  in  a country  house  with 
strangers  : they  cherish  a fellowship  more  cordial 
than  years  of  ordinary  intercourse  could  engender. 
It  is  no  little  consolation  to  me  that  I leave  my 
Bucephalus  in  excellent  hands ; nor  does  this  ne- 
cessary separation  so  engross  my  sympathies  that  I 
have  none  to  spare  for  other  partings.  Upon  these, 
however,  I shall  not  dilate  here ; though  you  must 
not  be  surprised  to  find  me  returning  more  than 
once  hereafter  to  characters,  scenes,  and  incidents 
at  Chicago,  which  I have  hitherto  left  untouched. 


FELLOW  PASSENGERS. 


215 


LETTER  XVIL 

Fellow  Passengers — Our  Journey — Our  New  Equipage — Walk- 
er’s Grove — A Disaster — Illimitable  Scene — Prairie  Loo — Accident 
— Log  Cabin — Library — Intellectual  Culture — Grouse — Ottawa- 
Fatal  Affair — Indian  Haters. 

Banks  of  the  Au  Sable,  Illinois,  Jan.  15. 

It.  was  about  eight  o’clock,  and  a bright  cold 
morning,  when  a handsome  four-horse  stage  coach, 
built  in  New -York,  and  placed  with  more  liberality 
than  judgment  on  a route  where  a broad-tired,  low- 
hung,  and  light  wagon  would  be  much  more  appro- 
priate, drove  up  to  my  quarters  at  Chicago  ; and, 
having  received  my  luggage,  crossed  the  river  on 
the  ice,  and  was  a few  moments  after  travelling 
through  the  deep  snow  over  the  Grand  Prairie.  My 
fellow  passengers  were,  a respectable  middle-aged 
female,  and  a smartly  dressed  young  man  of  amiable 
appearance,  whose  handsome  broadcloth  suit,  worn 
as  a travelling  dress,  bespoke  the  favoured  beau  of 
some  country  village,  or  possibly  a thriving  fyoung 
clerk  from  the  city,  engaged  upon  some  agency 
business,  and  travelling  in  the  style  which  he 
thought  would  best  comport  with  the  dignity  of  his 
employers.  The  driver  was  also  accompanied  on 
the  box  by  a well  made  young  half-blood  Chippe- 
way,  of  about  five-and-twenty,  who  had  come  down 


216 


OUR  JOURNEY. 


from  Mackinaw  to  seek  employment,  and  was  now 
going  farther  south  for  the  same  object. 

The  air  being  rather  sharp  on  the  piairie,  the  lady 
took  her  seat  between  the  young  gentleman  and 
myself,  and  thus  wedged  in  together,  we  contrived 
to  keep  very  comfortable ; though  our  near  neigh- 
bourhood did  not  render  us  more  communicative 
than  people  generally  are  after  an  early  breakfast. 
We  merely  exchanged  the  ordinary  common  places 
which  custom  exacts  from  people  thus  thrown  to- 
gether ; and  then,  unless  when  a wolf  passing  near 
our  track,  or  a particularly  large  pack  of  grouse 
rising  before  us,  called  forth  some  exclamation,  but 
few  words  were  spoken  by  any  of  the  company. 
At  length,  after  having  counted  six  wolves  within 
twice  as  many  miles,  we  approached  a grove  of 
timber,  where,  while  the  trees  grew  quite  densely 
in  the  centre,  a few  thin  rows  shot  out  like  a reef 
of  rocks  from  the  shadowy  island  far  into  the 
prairie. 

Here,  on  the  edge  of  a deep  gully,  through  which 
winds  the  River  Au  Plaine,  was  the  log  tavern  at 
which  the  first  stage  of  our  day’s  journey,  being 
twelve  miles,  concluded.  The  horses  were  in  a 
complete  foam  with  their  exertions  in  getting  through 
the  deep  snow-drifts  across  the  prairie,  and  I easily 
persuaded  the  driver  to  abandon  the  comfortable  but 
cumbersome  vehicle  which  had  brought  us  so  far, 
and  hitch  his  smoking  team,  which  had  still  twelve 
miles  to  go,  to  a rough  but  strongly  built  sled  before 
the  door.  My  fellow  passengers  approved  the  ar- 
rangement, and  subsequent  events  proved  it  a very 


OUR  NEW  EQUIPAGE. 


217 


fortunate  one ; for  so  deep  was  the  snow  on  many 
parts  of  the  road  afterward  traversed,  that  it  would 
have  been  impracticable  to  get  a wheel-carriage  for- 
ward, and  it  must  have  been  deserted  on  the  prairie. 
There  was  much  to  do,  however,  about  our  new 
equipage,  before  we  could  get  started ; and  while 
our  driver  looked  after  his  horses,  one  of  the  pas- 
sengers had  to  shovel  the  snow  out  of  the  sleigh, 
another  to  drive  a pin  through  the  tongue  in  order 
to  fasten  on  the  leaders  ; and  a third,  after  filling  the 
bottom  with  hay,  to  adjust  the  baggage,  &c.  &c. 
All  this,  with  the  aid  of  the  stout  Chippeway  and 
the  active  young  eastern  traveller,  was  soon  effect- 
ed ; and  the  former  taking  his  seat  with  the  driver 
on  a board  in  front,  while  the  latter  shared  half  of 
my  buffalo  robes  and  stowed  himself  upon  the  hay 
with  me  in  the  rear,  madame  was  well  accommo- 
dated, with  the  cushions  taken  from  the  stage,  on  a 
trunk  placed  in  the  middle  ; and  some  heated  stones 
being  brought  from  the  house  and  placed  beneath 
her  feet  just  as  we  started,  no  grandmother  could 
sit  more  comfortably  in  her  cushioned  pew  in  old 
Trinity. 

A fast  drive  of  twelve  miles  brought  us  at  noon, 
to  another  island  of  timber,  where  a little  piquant 
girl  of  sixteen,  with  sloe-black  eyes  and  glossy 
locks  as  dark  as  night,  arranged  a plain  but  neat 
meal  for  us,  and  gavo  a relish  to  the  entertainment 
by  loosing  one  of  the  most  vivacious  tongues  I had 
heard  wag  in  the  last  three  months.  Here  we 
changed  horses  ; and  a ride  of  sixteen  miles  more 
brought  us  about  nightfall  to  a place  called  “ Walk- 

vol.  i. — r 


218 


walker’s  grove. 


er’s  Grove,”  where  two  or  three  log  huts  were 
sheltered  from  the  north  wind  under  an  island  of 
tall  timber,  and  in  one  of  which  we  have  established 
ourselves  for  the  night.  A pile  of  burr-oak,  which 
makes  a capital  fire,  flames  up  the  enormous 
wooden  chimney  before  me ; and  a number  of  stout 
yeomen  around  it,  engaged  in  discussing  the  price 
of  horses  on  the  Wabash,  prevent  me,  while  hand- 
ling a matter  of  such  moment,  from  enlarging  more 
upon  the  few  objects  of  interest  which  have  pre- 
sented themselves  to-day. 

Ottawa,  Illinois,  January  16. 

1 was  hardly  dressed  this  morning,  when  my 
only  remaining  fellow  traveller — the  lady  and  the 
half-blood  having  parted  company  last  evening- 
called  me  to  the  door  to  “ see  the  cloud  of  prairie 
hens  before  it.”  I looked  out,  and  there  indeed, 
sure  enough  the  oaks  within  gunshot  of  the  porch 
were  so  loaded  with  grouse,  that  they  showed  more 
like  a flock  of  pigeons  than  a covey  of  game  birds. 
Having  broken  my  gun,  however,  it  was  intolerably 
vexatious  to  see  such  capital  shots  thrown  away ; 
while  these  fine  birds,  in  those  districts  where  I 
was  prepared  to  bag  them,  were  too  wild  to  ap- 
proach within  shooting  distance  at  all. 

The  sleigh  soon  after  came  to  the  door,  our  dri- 
ver having  diminished  his  team  by  two  horses,  to 
meet  probably  the  reduction  of  passengers  already 
mentioned ; and  about  a hundred  yards  from  the 
house  we  crossed  a broad  brook  known  as  the  Au 
Sable  River,  and  commenced  ascending  the  bank 


A DISASTER. 


219 


beyond.  But  the  snow  was  deep,  and  the  heavy 
drift  having  had  its  surface  frozen  over  during  the 
preceding  night,  our  single  pair  of  horses  were  un- 
able to  drag  through  it  the  clumsy  sled  behind 
them.  They  plunged  in  up  to  their  chests.  “ Go 
ahead,  Sam  ! gie  up  Major !”  shouted  the  driver. 
But  Sam  was  thoroughly  planted ; while  the  Ma- 
jor, in  trying  to  sustain  his  military  character  by 
obeying  orders,  gave  one  spring,  and,  floundering 
over  the  traces,  was  buried  in  the  snow  up  to  his 
crupper,  and  placed  nolens  volens , in  full  as  quies- 
cent a condition  as  the  already  settled  Sam.  For 
all  of-  us  to  get  out  and  take  hold  of  the  bits,  was 
the  next  move  ; but  it  wouldn’t  do.  Sam,  indeed, 
seemed  a little  inclined  to  make  a retrograde  move- 
ment, by  kicking  out  the  footboard  with  his  heels  ; 
while  the  Major,  having  gathered  new  energy  for 
another  charge,  wasted  his  fire  in  lifting  up  his 
knees  as  high  as  his  mouth,  and  ineffectually 
throwing  his  fore  hoofs  in  advance  on  the  crusted 
snow : handling  his  feet  the  while  much  after  the 
manner  of  the  rampant  unicorn  on  a calico  stamp, 
who,  unmindful  of  the  mottoed  garter  he  treads 
under  his  foot,  so  bravely  paws  the  crown  which 
the  complaisant  lion  is  pushing  towards  him.  The 
driver  at  last  became  convinced  of  the  necessity  of 
returning  for  another  pair  of  horses  ; and  a young 
colt  called  Blackhawk,  with  a hoary  old  plough 
horse  named  Judge,  were,  after  a little  delay,  pro- 
cured, and  placed  in  advance  of  Sam  and  the 
Major  on  the  top  of  the  bank.  Poor  Sam  seemed 
to  dislike  having  the  Judge’s  fetlocks  brought  so 


220 


ILLIMITABLE  SCENE, 


immediately  in  contact  with  his  nose,  they  being 
nearly  on  a horizontal  line  ; and  he  was  accordingly 
inclined  to  retreat  upon  his  haunches,  beneath 
which  the  snow  formed  so  easy  a cushion ; but  a 
single  crack  from  the  driver’s  whip  sent  the  Major 
charging  so  vigorously  upon  Blackhawk,  that  the 
sable  young  chief  gave  a bound  which  carried  us 
through  the  difficulty  in  a trice,  and  sent  our  vehi- 
cle skimming  far  over  the  prairie. 

The  grove  in  which  we  had  passed  the  night 
soon  vanished  from  sight,  and  a boundless  expanse 
of  snow-covered  surface  lay  like  an  ocean  before 
us.  The  arch  of  the  clear  blue  sky  seemed  to 
spring  at  once  from  the  silvered  earth,  which 
shone  under  the  bright  January  sun  with  an  inten- 
sity almost  painful  to  the  eye.  The  blue  vault 
above,  and  the  white  plain  below,  were  the  only 
objects  that  met  its  glances  as  they  roamed  for  miles 
around ; yet  no  one  could  complain  of  sameness 
in  the  tints  of  a picture  so  vast,  a scene  so  illimi- 
table. The  immensity  of  the  prospect  seemed  to 
exclude  the  idea  of  monotony,  and  perfect  solitude 
was  only  wanting  in  such  a scene  to  make  one  feel 
its  grandeur.  The  lively  rattle  of  my  companion, 
howTever,  whose  society  after  travelling  so  long 
entirely  alone,  I found  no  slight  acquisition, 
prevented  me  from  realizing  its  full  effect ; and 
when,  after  riding  for  about  twelve  miles,  an  island 
of  timber  hove  in  sight,  while  the  beautiful  sky  of 
the  morning  clouded  over,  and  the  cold  wind,  which 
began  to  set  in  from  the  west,  indicated  that  the 
twelve  miles  we  had  yet  to  travel  before  we  should 


PRAIRIE  LOO. 


221 


reach  the  first  house  across  this  arm  of  the  prairie 
would  be  anything  but  agreeable — I was  contented 
to  wrap  myself  as  closely  as  possible  in  my  buffalo 
robe,  and  join  him  in  a game  of  prairie  loo.  Lest 
you  might  search  vainly  in  Hoyle  for  this  pastime, 
I must  inform  you  that  the  game  consists  merely  in 
betting  upon  the  number  of  wild  animals  seen  by 
either  party  towards  the  side  of  the  vehicle  on 
which  he  is  riding,  a wolf  or  deer  counting  ten,  and 
a grouse  one.  The  game  is  a hundred ; and  you 
may  judge  of  the  abundance  of  these  animals  from 
our  getting  through  several  games  before  dinner — * 
my  companion  looing  me  with  eleven  wolves. 
Some  of  these  fellows  would  stand  looking  at  us 
within  half  gunshot,  as  we  rode  by  them ; while 
the  grouse  would  rise  continually  from  under  our 
very  horses’  feet. 

Before  we  had  got  through  the  twenty-four 
miles,  the  .scene  enacted  at  starting  was  to  be  re- 
peated with  improvement ; for  on  coming  to  the 
edge  of  a frozen  gully,  our  two  leaders,  in  their 
anxiety  to  avoid  former  difficulties,  gave  such  a 
spring  that  they  sunk  through  the  ice  to  their 
shoulders  on  the  opposite  side ; while  the  wheel- 
horses,  being  thrown  down,  were  driven  by  the 
runners  of  the  sleigh  against  the  sharp  edges  of  the 
ice  thus  exposed,  and  one  of  them  was  terribly 
lacerated.  It  was  the  unfortunate  Sam,  who,  poor 
fellow,  not  having  been  watered  since  the  morn- 
ing, lay  quietly  on  his  side  in  the  traces,  with  his 
fore  legs  up  the  slope,  and  his  hinder  ones  in  the 
pool,  eating  the  snow  thus  brought  in  contact  with 

T 2 


222 


LOG  CABIN  LIBRARY. 


his  mouth,  apparently  perfectly  unconscious  of  his 
wounds.  Blackhawk  and  the  Judge,  of  course, 
came  to  an  anchor  when  they  found  such  an  ac- 
cumulated weight  dragging  behind  them  ; while  the 
spirited  Major  seemed  to  be  thoroughly  dejected  at 
this  second  discomfiture,  and  allowed  us  to  turn 
him  over  and  put  him  on  his  feet  with  scarcely  the 
interposition  cf  a struggle.  Not  far  from  the  scene 
of  this  catastrophe  we  crossed  the  Au  Page,  a nar- 
row stream,  with  smooth  banks,  utterly  divested  of 
shrubbery ; and  after,  in  the  next  eight  miles,  en- 
countering two  or  three  tremendous  snow-banks, 
where  our  horses  were  frequently  immersed  to 
their  cruppers,  and  whence  nothing  but  the  leaders, 
from  their  firm  footing  beyond,  dragging  the  wheel* 
horses  through  the  heavy  drift,  could  have  extricated 
us,  we  reached  a beautiful  grove  of  elms  and  oaks, 
and  stopped  to  change  our  worn-out  team. 

Entering  a log  cabin,  not  at  all  differing  from  the 
usual  dwellings  of  the  frontier  settlers,  I found  a 
choice  collection  of  books  in  one  corner — a volume, 
a fine  old  edition  of  Algernon  Sidney’s  works  being 
the  first  book  I took  up  ; and,  upon  entering  into 
conversation  with  the  occupants  of  the  cabin,  I 
found  that  degree  of  general  cultivation  which, 
though  not  unfrequently  met  with  on  the  frontier, 
still  always  strikes  a stranger  with  novelty ; and 
yet  I know  no  reason  why  the  fullest  expanding  of 
the  intellect  is  incompatible  with  the  handling  of  an 
axe,  or  the  most  luxuriant  development  of  the 
imagination  with  following  the  plough.  The  far- 
mer, of  all  operatives,  has,  perhaps,  the  most  time 


INTELLECTUAL  CULTURB.  223 

f 

for  improvement;  and  when  he  dwells  in  a land 
where,  while  nature  showers  her  choicest  boun- 
ties, man  passes  towards  it  from  every  side,  and 
contributes  on  his  new  coming  to  the  general  stock 
of  ideas,  keeping,  by  this  lively  interchange,  those 
already  afloat  in  active  circulation,  there  is  every 
thing  in  his  circumstances  to  make  him  acute  and 
reflective,  and  to  liberalize  his  mind,  if  not  to  polish 
his  manners.  . 

It  would  be  giving  you  a wrong  impression,  how- 
ever, did  I allow  you  to  gather  from  this  that  the 
oldest  western  settlers  of  this  country  are  by  any 
means  so  familiar  with  books  as  the  emigrants  from 
the  east ; for  among  the  latter  there  are  many  per- 
sons of  altered  circumstances,  who,  having  once  en- 
joyed better  opportunities  for  literary  culture,  carry 
the  traces  of  their  old  habits  with  them  into  the  new” 
scenes  to  which  they  so  readily  adapt  themselves. 
Fluency  of  language,  with  an  ease  and  power  of 
expression  which  sometimes  swells  to  the  dignity 
of  eloquence,  and  often  displays  itself  in  terms  of 
originality  at  once  humorous  and  forcible,  constitute 
the  conversational  resources  of  the  western  man  ; 
but  as  his  knowdedge  is  gathered  almost  altogether 
from  conversation,  he  wants  that  exact  acquaintance 
with  facts  and  things  which  enriches  the  intellect- 
ual armoury  of  his  eastern  brother  in  a similar  situa- 
tion of  life.  My  opportunities  as  yet  of  forming  an 
opinion  might,  perhaps,  be  questioned  by  one  who 
did  not  know  that  the  southern  part  of  Michigan, 
and  the  northern  sections  of  Illinois,  are  settled  by 
people  from  almost  every  state  in  the  Union.  Hav- 


224 


GROUSE, 


ing  now  traversed  them  both,  I may  venture  the 
above  observation,  at  least  with  you. 

A dinner  of  grouse  at  this  place  came  very  op- 
portunely after  our  keen  ride  of  twenty-four  miles 
over  the  prairie  without  once  stopping;  and,  by  way 
of  varying  our  customary  fare  of  bacon  and  corn- 
bread  along  the  road,  we  purchased  a few  brace  of 
these  fine  birds  for  a mere  trifle,  there  being  at  hand 
a coopful  of  them  just  caught  alive  upon  the  pre- 
mises. 

It  was  just  sunset  when,  after  riding  about  thirteen 
miles  over  a dreary  looking  prairie,  we  came  sud- 
denly to  one  of  those  steppes  into  which  these  sin- 
gular plains  sometimes  break  so  beautifully ; and, 
looking  down  over  two  broad  platforms,  which  suc- 
cessively projected  their  flat  surfaces  and  angular 
edges  below  us,  beheld  the  Illinois  River  winding 
through  the  lowest  meadow,  and  receiving  its  tribu- 
tary, the  Fox  River,  opposite  the  little  village  of 
Ottawa.  It  seemed  to  repose  upon  a rich  alluvial 
flat,  with  the  rocky  bluffs  of  the  Illinois  rising  in  a 
regular  line  to  the  height  of  seventy  or  eighty  feet 
immediately  in  the  rear ; while  their  rugged  and 
varying  outline,  both  above  and  below,  towered  op- 
posite to  a much  greater  height.  The  warm  light  of 
the  setting  sun  resting  upon  their  mossy  edges,  and 
touching  with  freshness  an  evergreen  that  sprouted 
here  and  there  among  the  cliffs,  while  the  rising 
mists  of  evening  imparted  a bluish  tint  to  the  dis- 
tant windings  of  the  smooth  valley  below,  gave  an 
Italian  softness  to  the  landscape  but  little  in  unison 
with  the  icy  rigours  that  enchained  the  streams  to 


OTTOWA. 


225 


which  in  summer  it  must  owe  its  greatest  beauty. 
A mile  or  two  farther  brought  us  over  the  frozen 
river  to  the  comfortable  frame  house  from  which 
this  letter  is  dated. 

Ottawa,  which  is  situated  a few  miles  above  the 
head  of  steamboat  navigation  on  the  Illinois,  is 
from  its  central  situation,  gradually  becoming  a 
place  of  some  commercial  importance,  though  still 
a mere  hamlet  in  size.  It  was  within  six  miles  of 
this  place  that  the  worst  of  the  Indian  horrors  were 
perpetrated  during  the  difficulties  with  the  Sacs  and 
Foxes  in  1832.  You  must  remember  the  news- 
paper accounts  of  every  member  of  two  families 
being  butchered,  except  two  young  girls,  who  were 
carried  into  captivity,  and  afterward  recovered  from 
the  Indians.*  There  was  a singular  fatality  attend- 
ing this  melancholy  affair,  which  makes  it  worth 
while  to  recall  some  of  the  particulars.  According  to 
my  informant,  the  heads  of  both  families,  who  lived 
in  the  same  or  adjoining  houses,  had  more  than  once 
removed  their  wives  and  children  into  Ottowa,  upon 
false  alarms  of  the  approach  of  the  Indians  ; and  one 
of  them,  from  some  new  warning  on  the  very  day 
on  which  the  event  took  -place,  was  again  moving 
the  united  establishment  in  wagons  to  the  same 
place  of  security,  when  he  met  the  other,  who  so 
opposed  and  ridiculed  the  idea,  that  they  returned 
together.  An  hour  or  two  after  they  were  at  work, 
within  a few  yards  of  the  door,  when  a band  of  In- 
dians appeared,  and  with  a triumphant  yell  sur- 

t See  Note  N 


226 


FATAL  AFFAIR. 


rounded,  the  house  in  an  instant.  Armed  only  with 
their  tools  of  husbandry,  they  did  not  hesitate  to 
make  an  attack  upon  an  enemy  that  outnumbered 
them  so  as  to  make  the  attempt  to  get  into  the 
house  and  reach  their  rifles  perfect  madness.  It  is 
needless  to  add,  that  they  were  shot  down,  toma- 
hawked, and  scalped  in  an  instant ; not,  how- 
ever, as  some  say,  before  they  had  witnessed  some 
of  the  atrocities  practised  upon  the  feebler  members 
of  their  families.  These,  both  before  and  after 
death,  are  too  shocking  to  mention. 

“ Why,  sir,”  said  an  Illinois  man  to  me,  who  was 
on  the  spot  shortly  afterward,  “ those  Indians  be- 
haved most  ridiculous . They  dashed  children’s 
brains  against  the  door-posts ; they  cut  off  their 
heads;  they  tore — but  the  detail  to  which  my 
informant  applied  so  quaint  an  epithet  is  one  that  I 
would  not  think  for  a moment  of  giving  you.  I 
must  not  forget  to  add,  that  the  two  surviving 
females,  after  losing  every  near  blood  relative  in 
this  horrible  manner,  have  lately  found  legal  pro- 
tectors, and  are  now  settled  in  life  as  respectable 
married  women.  I had  previously,  even  as  far 
north  as  the  borders  of  Michigan,  in  Indiania,  seen 
stockades  erected  in  the  open  prairie  as  a place  of 
refuge  for  the  settlers,  with  other  similar  marks  of 
the  late  border  strife,  but  had  no  idea  till  this  even- 
ing that  I was  approaching  the  seat  of  the  bloodiest 
acts  of  the  unhappy  contest.  The  neutral  Indians, 
who  disappeared  from  this  part  of  the  country  at 
the  time,  are  now,  I am  told  dispersed  again  in 
large  numbers  over  the  neighbourhood.  They  are 

j 


INDIAN  HATERS. 


227 


perfectly  harmless  ; but,  though  treated  with  great 
kindness  by  the  new  emigrants,  there  will  probably 
never  again  be  much  confidence  between  them  and 
the  old  settlers.  The  latter  somehow  seem  to  have 
long  regarded  the  Indians  as  hereditary  enemies ; 
and  the  events  of  1832  have  given  new  vigour  to 
dislikes  which  seemed  to  be  gradually  losing  their 
rancour.  A man  who  has  to  plough  with  a heavy  rifle 
ready  loaded,  slung  to  his  back,  day  after  day,  while 
he  fears  even  to  send  his  child  to  the  spring  for  a 
pail  of  water,  may  be  well  excused  for  being  warm 
upon  a subject  which  must  thus  fill  his  thoughts  and 
harass  his  mind  throughout  each  hour  of  the  day. 
It  is  therefore  useless  to  argue  with  an  Illinois 
“ Indian  hater.”  What  cares  he  for  the  “ lean 
famine,  quartering  steel,  and  climbing  fire,”  which 
you  tell  him  often  beset  the  red  man’s  wigwam  be- 
fore his  ancestors  made  good  their  footing  on  ano- 
ther’s land.  He  thinks  but  of  the  frantic  outrages 
he  has  witnessed  in  his  own  day.  He  thinks  of 
his  often  abandoned  husbandry,  “ while  that  the 
coulter  rusts”  corrupting  in  its  own  fertility.  He 
thinks  of  his  butchered  friends  and  neighbours — of 
his  wife  and  offspring  slaughtered  upon  his  hearth- 
stone— asks  bitterly  how  you  could 

“ Look  to  see 

The  blind  and  bloody  savage  with  foul  hand 
Defile  the  locks  of  your  shrill-shrieking  daughters  ; 

Your  fathers  taken  by  the  silver  beards, 

And  their  most  reverend  heads  dashed  to  the  walls  j 
Your  naked  infants  spitted  upon  pikes, 

While  the  mad  mothers,  with  their  howls  confused, 

Do  break  the  clouds,” 


228 


FROZEN  CASCADE. 


An  accumulation  of  horrid  images,  which  shows 
with  what  fearful  fidelity  Shakspeare  would  have 
painted  Indian  warfare,  had  these  wild  tragedies 
of  our  day  been  acted  in  his. 


LETTER  XVIII. 

Frozen  Cascade— Banks  of  Vermillion  River — Icy  Descent— 
Indian  Trails — Slippery  Bluffs— Picturesque  Spot — Starved  Rocks 
— Our  Hostess— Boundless  Plain — Beautiful  Scene — Frozen  Gully 
—Critical  Situation — Danger  from  Frost — A Flourishing  Farmer 
— Wolves— A Travelling  Bride. 

Boyd’s  Grove,  Illinois,  Jan.  25th,  1834. 

It  was  so  long  since  I had  seen  a stone  at  all 
deserving  the  name  of  a rock,  that  I took  a good 
deal  of  satisfaction  in  scaling  the  bluffs  of  the  Illi- 
nois, and  traversing  the  adjacent  ravines,  before 
getting  out  on  the  prairie  the  morning  that  I left 
Ottawa.  In  one  of  these  rocky  gullies, — which  run 
generally  at  right  angles  to  the  river,  and  with  their 
preciptous  walls  in  one  place,  and  cavernous  pas- 
sages beneath  the  jutting  limestone  in  another,  often 
form  some  picturesque  dell,  or  afford  a romantic 
glimpse  of  the  open  country  beyond,— I saw  the 
first  cascade  I have  met  with  since  leaving  Penn- 
sylvania. The  fall  was  not  more  than  ten  feet; 
but  the  column  of  water,  being  frozen  in  a solid 
sheet  as  white  as  the  purest  porcelain,  presented  a 


BANKS  OF  VERMILLION  RIVER. 


229 


very  singular  appearance  as  it  raised  its  pale 
glistening  front  beneath  a canopy  of  stunted  cedars, 
whose  green  branches  impended  from  the  rocks 
above.  Our  sleigh,  after  winding  for  some  time 
among  this  broken  ground,  and  passing  over  one 
or  two  small  but  beautiful  pieces  of  bottom  land 
lying  among  the  ravines,  reached  at  last  the  top  of 
the  bluff,  where,  instead  of  descending  on  the  other 
side,  the  level  prairie  extended  as  far  as  the  eye 
could  reach  beyond.  A few  hours’  drive  brought 
us  to  a log  cabin,  which  was  our  plac^  for  dining 
and  changing  horses ; and  here  we  found  that, 
owing  to  the  newness  of  the  route,  arrangements 
were  not  yet  completed  for  the  public  conveyances 
going  farther.  Hearing  a stranger  speaking  in 
terms  of  enthusiasm  of  the  fine  view  from  “ Starved 
Rock,”— a detached  crag  some  two  hundred  feet 
high,  on  the  banks  of  the  Illinois,  where  one  band 
of  Indians  was  surrounded  and  starved  to  death  by 
another,  (I  refer  you  to  “ Flint’3  Valley  of  the 
Mississppi”  for  the  legend,) — I made  arrangements 
to  visit  the  spot  in  the  morning. 

A chill  north-easter  swept  over  the  bleak  prairie, 
as  my  travelling  companion  and  myself,  mounted 
upon  two  miserable  nags,  neither  of  which  was 
shod,  struck  on  an  Indian  trail  that  brought  us  in  an 
hour’s  ride  to  the  craggy  and  precipitous  banks  of 
the  Vermillion  River,  which  it  was  necessary  to 
cross.  A sickly-looking  but  rather  interesting 
woman  came  out  of  a miserable  log  hut — beside 
which,  housed  under  a few  boards,  stood  a hand- 
some barouche — to  direct  us  where  to  descend  the 
vol.  1. — u 


230 


ICY  DESCENT. 

bank;  and  my  friend  on  foot  leading  his  horse, 
mine-  followed  trembling  after  him  ; and,  notwith- 
standing the  steep  path  was  glazed  with  ice,  we 
descended  the  first  pitch  in  safety. 

Pausing  for  a moment,  the  confused  masses  of 
rock,  with  trees  and  shrubs  of  all  kinds  growing  in 
their  crevices,  reminded  me,  as  I looked  around, 
of  more  than  one  scene  of  the  kind  in  the  river 
counties  of  my  native  state.  It  was  now  my  turn 
to  lead  down  the  next  pitch,  which  led  to  the  frozen 
bed  of  the  river.  Upon  gaining  the  edge  I per- 
ceived that  the  descent  was  a perfect  glare  of  ice  ; 
and  pausing  a moment  to  hand  a loaded  gun,  which 
I carried,  to  my  companion,  lest  it  might  be  dis- 
charged in  the  accident  which  I anticipated,  my 
horse  lost  his  footing  even  as  I turned  in  the  saddle, 
and  falling  flat  over  upon  me,  down  we  slid 
together.  I had  not  gone  two  yards,  however, 
before  a small  jutting  rock  brought  me,  but  little 
bruised,  to  an  anchorage  ; while  my  unfortunate 
consort,  after  sliding  over  a part  of  my  person, 
went,  though  struggling  fearfully  to  regain  his  feet, 
slipping  to  the  bottom.  He  landed  at  last  erect, 
with  his  face  up  the  ascent,  and  though  now  on  the 
level  ice  of  the  river,  the  poor  brute  seemed  to  think 
he  was  still  midway  on  the  declivity  he  had  been 
hurried  over  so  roughly ; for,  without  looking  at  all 
behind  him,  he  stood  trembling  for  an  instant,  and 
then,  in  spite  of  all  the  outcry  we  could  raise  to 
keep  him  back,  commenced  ascending  to  where  we 
stood,  and  actually  persevered  till  he  had  gained 
the  place  from  whence  he  had  started.  The  only 


INDIAN  TRAILS. 


231 


n 

way  now  to  effect  our  purpose  was  for  one  to  go 
below  and  the  other  to  drive  the  horses  dowTn  to 
him.  This  we  indeed  did;  and  I do  not  know 
when  I have  been  more  amused,  than  upon  seeing 
my  worthy  Rozinante,  as  if  taught  by  past  experi- 
ence, quietly,' when  he  found  he  must  go,  placing 
himself  upon  his  haunches,  and  sliding  dowm  the 
little  hill  with  veteran  skill  and  coolness. 

Crossing  the  Vermillion,  we  were  compelled  to 
drive  our  horses  in  the  same  way  up  the  bank  on 
the  opposite  side  ; and,  by  catching  hold  of  the 
branches  of  trees,  drag  ourselves  after  them  as  we 
best  could.  Once  on  the  height,  nothing  but  a 
level  plain  of  rich  prairie  land  lay  between  us  and 
the  bluffs  of  the  Illinois.  It  was  crossed  here  and 
there  at  intervals  of  a few  miles  with  Indian  trails, 
about  a foot  in  width,  and  worn  as  deep  as  if  they 
had  been  trod  for  centuries.  They  ran  in  various 
directions,  and  were  generally  as  straight  as  the 
flight  of  an  arrow.  A heavy  rain  throughout  the 
previous  night  had  swept  all  the  snow  from  the 
prairie,  and  these  black  lines  drawn  over  its  brown 
surface  were  nowr  perceptible  at  a great  distance. 
A long  reach  of  woodland  immediately  before  us 
indicated  our  approach  to  the  Illinois  bottoms ; 
but  on  entering  the  timbered  ground,  where  the 
snow  still  lingered  in  considerable  quantities,  we 
found  ourselves  on  the  slippery  bluffs,  a hundred 
feet  above  the  level  of  the  river  opposite,  without 
the  possibility  of  descending  to  its  bed.  These 
bluffs  were  divided  at  intervals  by  the  romantic 
ravines  already  described ; and  having  now  dis- 


232 


PICTURESQUE  SPOT. 


covered  that  we  had  entirely  missed  the  road  to 
“ The  Starved  Rock,”  it  only  remained  for  us  to 
attempt  descending  through  these  passages,  and 
find  the  place  by  a route  of  our  own.  We  led  the 
way  by  turns,  and  urging  our  unwilling  horses 
down  the  frozen  beds  of  the  little  streams  which 
impart  their  coolness  in  autumn  to  these  seques- 
tered dells,  we  tried  three  ravines  in  succession 
without  attaining  our  object.  One  would  bring 
us  up  against  a dead  wall  of  limestone,  in  the  cre- 
vices of  whose  base  the  rill  we  had  been  following 
suddenly  disappeared ; a second  carried  us  to  the 
abrupt  edge  of  a precipice,  about  fifty  feet  above 
the  river,  whose  rich  bottoms,  extending  far  away 
below,  reminded  me,  with  the  occasional  copses 
and  detached  clumps  of  trees  which  studded  them, 
of  points  of  views  in  the  valley  of  the  Mohawk. 
Nothing,  on  so  small  a scale,  could  be  more  pic- 
turesque than  the  nook  to  which  the  third  ravine 
led  us.  It  was  to  the  upper  edge  of  a double 
cascade,  over  the  second  fall  of  which  an  arch  of 
rock  projected,  so  as  to  shut  out  from  view  the 
basin  into  which  the  water  finally  fell  below.  The 
passage  through  which  we  reached  the  spot  was  a 
mere  fissure  in  the  side  hill ; and  when,  not  wish- 
ing to  get  my  feet  wet,  I urged  my  horse  to  the 
brink  of  the  little  cascade,  the  long  icicles  pendent 
from  the  hanging  rock  above  were  almost  within 
reach  of  my  riding  whip.  A number  of  gnarled 
and  stunted  cedars,  “moist  trees  that  have  outlived 
the  eagle,”  fling  their  dusky  branches  over  the 
chasm  ; and  when  summer  foliage  glitters  on  the 


STARVED  rock. 


233 


tall  stems  whose  naked  boughs  project  above  them, 
the  sun  must  be  wholly  excluded  from  this  cool 
retreat. 

Our  horses  were  so  fagged  out  when  we  extri- 
cated ourselves  from  this  ravine,  that  we  did  not 
think  it  well  to  try  another;  and  my  companion 
being  afraid  of  freezing  his  feet,  which  were  wet 
from  his  having  dismounted  at  the  most  difficult 
parts  of  the  descent,  I was  sorry  to  be  compelled 
to  give  up  the  search  and  return  to  our  lodgings, 
after  an  eight  hours’  ride,  without  having  seen  the 
interesting  point  we  had  taken  so  much  trouble  to 
attain.* 

The  mail  contractor,  resident  at  Chicago,  had 
arrived  at  the  farm  house  during  our  absence  ; and 
hearing  that  two  gentlemen  were  detained  upon 

* An  unknown  correspondent  has  politely  furnished  the  author 
with  the  following  account  of  this  interesting  point,  as  given  in  “ a 
letter  from  a friend,  still  roaming  over  the  beautiful  prairies  of 
Illinois.” 

“ 1 climbed  the  Indian  path  until  I reached  the  summit  of  Starved 
Rock.  This  celebrated  rock  is  said  to  be  two  hundred  and  fifty  feet 
high.  It  is  a stupendous  pile,  nearly  as  large  at  the  top  as  at  the 
base,  and  is  accessible  at  one  place  only ; in  every  other  direction  it 
is  nearly  perpendicular,  and  more  than  half  its  base  is  washed  by 
the  Illinois,  which  is  here  from  three  to  four  feet  deep. 

“ The  summit  is  circular  and  almost  level,  containing  about  an 
^icre;  and  now  has  on  it  a thick  growth  of  young  timber.  There 
is  still  lying  a great  quantity  of  the  bones  of  the  Indians  who  were 
starved  to  death  by  a hostile  tribe.  I picked  up  on  the  side  of  the 
pass,  and  dug  out  of  the  earth,  several  arrow  points.  At  one  place, 
• where  there  appears  a possibility  of  scaling  the  rock,  an  intrench- 
ment  is  dug  and  breastwork  thrown  up.  After  passing  an  hour  on 
the  summit,  we  descended  to- our  boat  at  the  foot  of  the  rock,  and 
proceeded  on  our  voyage.” — See  note  O. 

u 2 


234 


OUR  HOSTESS. 


the  road,  had,  with  great  politeness,  at  once  taken 
measures  to  send  us  on  the  next  morning.  The 
room,  too,  in  which  we  had  slept  before — four  in 
two  beds  and  three  on  the  floor — had*now  been 
vacated  by  five  of  its  occupants,  and  my  compa- 
nion and  I each  appropriated  a couch  to  himself. 
We  were  hardly  warm  under  the  cover,  however, 
before  the  tramping  of  horses,  with  the  sound  of 
travellers’  voices,  was  heard  without ; and  the  good 
dame  thrust  her  head  into  the  room,  in  the  vain 
expectation  of  showing  them  an  unoccupied  bed. 
My  companion  pretended  to  be  in  a sound  sleep  ; 
and  I intimated  that  I should  betake  myself  to  my 
buffalo  robe  and  the  floor,  in  case  a bedfellow  were 
thrust  in  upon  me  : whereat  the  kind  lady  was  ex- 
ceedingly miffed ; and  we  could  hear  her  through 
the  board  partition,  a moment  afterward,  expres- 
sing herself  after  this  amiable  fashion  : — “ Ugh  ! 
great  people,  truly  ! a bed  to  themselves,  the  hogs  ! 
They  travel  together — and  they  eat  together — and 
they  eat  enough,  too, — and  yet  they  can’t  sleep 
together  !”  Here  the  husband,  a respectable  mid- 
dle-aged man,  who  did  every  thing  to  make  our 
situation  comfortable  during  the  thirty-six  houis  we 
spent  at  his  cabin,  interposed,  and  silenced  his 
better  half ; and,  the  new  comers  wrapping  them- 
selves in  their  cloaks  before  the  fire,  in  a few 
minutes  all  became  still  about  the  establishment. 

The  good  dame,  who  must  have  been  a fine- 
looking  woman  in  her  day,  and  was,  I believe,  in  • 
spite  of  her  scolding  ways,  really  well  disposed 
towards  us  at  heart,  gave  us  a capital  cup  of  coffee 


BOUNDLESS  PLAIN,  - 


235 


and  a kind  farewell  in  the  morning.  A four  horse 
wagon,  with  an  active  driver,  quickly  accomplished 
a mile  of  rough  road  through  the  grove,  and  brought 
us  once  more  to  the  edge  of  the  smooth  prairie.  I 
can  conceive  nothing  more  desolate  than  the  appear- 
ance of  that  boundless  plain.  The  fires  had  tra- 
versed it  in  the  autumn  as  far  as  the  eye  could 
reach,  and  the  snow  having  now  disappeared 
entirely  from  the  upland,  the  black  and  charred 
surface  was  all  that  met  our  vision  wherever  it 
wandered  a dark  sullen  sky  which  lowered  over- 
head added  not  a little  to  the  gloominess  of  the 
prospect ; and  the  day  being  excessively  cold,  our 
ride  for  the  next  fifteen  miles  over  this  dreary  plain 
was  anything  but  agreeable.  At  last  we  came  to 
some  broken  ground,  dotted  here  and  there  with  a 
handful  of  shrubbery,  from  which  every  moment  a 
pack  of  grouse,  and  occasionally  a bevy  of  quail 
would  rise.  The  little  village  of  Hennepin — called 
after  Father  Hennepin — next  hove  in  sight:  though 
it  lay  so  sheltered  along  the  banks  of  the  Illinois 
that  we  were  nearly  upon  the  hamlet  before  its 
vicinity  was  discoverable. 

After  stopping  an  hour  or  two  to  dine  and  feed 
our  horses,  we  left  the  driver  to  take  a circuitous 
route  down  the  steep  bank,  which  though  not 
rocky,  is  about  $ixty  feet  high,  and  very  precipitous 
on  that  side  of  the  river ; while  my  friend  and  I 
descended  to  the  ice,  and  walked  over  the  river, 
which  was  here  a broad  and  noble  stream,  with 
some  beautiful  alluvial  islands  on  its  bosom.  The 
difference  of  temperature  here  and  on  the  bleak 


236 


• BEAUTIFUL  SCENE* 


prairie  above  was  astonishing ; and  when  I sat 
down  upon  a fallen  tree  among  the  tangled  vines 
of  the  rich  bottom  opposite  to  Hennepin,  and 
watched  a flock  of  green  parroquets  fluttering 
among  the  wych-elms  which  here  and  there  skirted 
the  shore,  while  the  sun,  for  a moment  piercing  his 
murky  veil  touched  with  gold  the  icicles  that  gla- 
zed their  drooping  branches,  I could  fancy  myself 
transported  to  a different  climate.  The  driver 
overtook  us  at  last,  and  then  we  commenced  making 
our  way  through  a timbered  bottom,  which  for  ap- 
pearance of  rank  fertility,  excelled  any  spot  I have 
ever  beheld.  The  trees  were  of  enormous  size, 
and  seemed  chained  together  at  every  point  by 
huge  vines,  which  clambered  to  their  very  summits, 
locking  the  stately  stems  in  their  ponderous  em- 
brace, and  clasping  each  outer  bough  with  some 
twining  tendril.  Having  thus  secured  its  prey  on 
one  tree,  the  vine  would  seem,  like  a living  animal, 
to  have  bounded  to  another,  and  fastened  its  eager 
grasp  upon  some  limb  as  yet  untouched.  Beneath 
the  whole  an  interminable  growth  of  underwood, 
protected  by  the  woven  canopy  above,  and  flourish- 
ing rankly  in  its  living  fetters, 

“ Like  prisoners  wildly  overgrown  with  hair, 

Put  forth  disordered  twigs.” 

• 

A half-hour’s  ride  carried  us  through  this  teem- 
ing region  to  the  foot  of  a steep  and  open-wooded 
hill,  which  ascending  with  some  difficulty,  we  came 
out  once  more  upon  the  prairie,  and  found  the 
change  of  temperature  instantaneous.  The  road 


FROZEN  GULLY 


237 


over  the  dry  glassy  plain  was  very  good,  however, 
for  the  first  six  or  eight  miles ; and  as  the  evening 
began  to  close  in  intensely  cold,  we  rattled  them  off 
in  a very  short  time.  At  last  we  came  to  a deep 
frozen  gully,  in  crossing  which  our  leaders  bruised 
themselves  so  badly  by  breaking  through  the  ice, 
that  when  we  reached  a spot  of  the  same  kind, 
but  rather  worse,  a mile  or  two  in  advance,  the 
frightened  animals  recoiled  from  the  place,  and 
refused  to  cross  it.  Our  driver,  a doughty  little 
chap,  abought  four  feet  eleven,  who  rejoiced  in  the 
name  of  Samson,  and  was  a capital  whip  by-the-by, 
after  using  every  exertion  to  get  his  whole  team 
over,  was  at  last  compelled  to  give  up  the  point, 
and  proceed  to  detach  the  leaders  from  the  wheel- 
horses.  This,  with  our  aid,  was  soon  done  ; and 
my  companion  remaining  with  the  leaders  on  one 
side,  Samson  and  I made  a dash  at  the  frozen 
brook,  and  breaking  through  in  the  midst,  the  hor- 
ses gave  such  a spring  to  free  themselves  from  the 
wagon,  that  the  swingletree-bolt  snapped ; and  had 
not  the  heroic  little  champion  held  on  to  the  reins 
as  tenaciously  as  did  his  namesake  to  the  gates  of 
Gaza,  we  might  have  been  left  a prey  to  the  next 
drove  of  Philistinean  wolves  that  should  rove  the 
prairie  in  quest  of  a supper. 

Samson,  however,  was  true  to  his  name ; and 
with  a mighty  arm  bringing  up  his  foaming  steeds 
all  standing,  we  crawled  over  the  head  of  the 
rampant  wagon,  (the  hind-wheels  only  had  gone 
through  the  ice,)  and  sprang  to  the  firm  ground. 
The  swingletree  was  soon  tinkered  fast  again;  but 


238 


CRITICAL  SITUATION. 


now  came  the  difficulty  of  getting  the  unwilling 
leaders  over,  who,  it  is  presumed,  had  been  no 
uninterested  spectators  of  what  had  just  been  going 
forward:  coaxing  and  whipping  availed  nothing; 
and  we  at  last  succeeded  only  by  buckling  two 
pair  of  reins  together  and  passing  them  over  the 
brook,  two  of  us  pulling  on  the  horse’s  mouths, 
while  the  third  applied  a smart  castigation  behind. 
One  of  the  poor  animals  again  broke  in,  and 
floundered  dreadfully  before  he  reached  a.  firm 
footing  on  the  other  side.  But  this  was  not  the 
worst ; our  poor  little  Samson,  in  attempting  to 
jump,  floundered  in  up  to  his  knees,  and  suffered 
much  inconvenience  from  it  afterward.  The 
evening  was  indeed  so  cold,  that  our  wheel-horses, 
who  were  coated  with  ice,  their  long  tails  being 
actually  frozen  solid,  were  in  danger  of  freezing  to 
death,  had  we  been  compelled  to  delay  much  longer. 
But  placing  now  the  leaders  on  the  firm  ground 
beyond  them,  one  smart  pull  served  to  extricate 
the  wagon  from  the  hole,  and  deliver  us  from  our 
quandary. 

We  had  five  or  six  miles  still  to  go  before 
reaching  a house  ; and  feeling  some  anxiety  about 
Samson’s  wet  feet,  we  urged  him  to  put  the  horses 
— nothing  loath  when  once  started— to  the  top  of 
their  speed.  He  did  indeed  drive  furiously  ; but 
when  we  arrived  at  the  house  whence  I write,  the 
poor  fellow’s  feet  were  frozen.  Rushing  at  once 
to  the  fire,  he  would  undoubtedly  have  lost  them, 
had  there  not  chanced  to  be  a physician  present, 
who  directed  us  what  to  do.  The  good  humoured 


A FLOURISHING  FARMER. 


239 


little  patient  was  removed  without  delay  to  the 
back  part  of  the  room;  and  we  commenced  pour- 
ing water  into  his  boots  until  they  melted  from 
his  feet,  the  temperature  of  the  water  being  gra- 
dually heightened  until  it  became  blood-warm, 
while  a bucket  of  ice-water  stood  by  for  the  suf« 
ferer  to  thrust  his  feet  in,  whenever  the  returning 
circulation  became  too  violent  for  him  to  endure. 
In  the  morning,  though  his  feet  were,  dreadfully 
swollen,  he  was  enabled,  by  tying  them  up  in 
thick  horse-blankets,  to  move  about,  and  even 
return  with  his  team.  To  the  simple  and  judi- 
cious suggestions  of  the  travelling  physician  pre- 
sent, our  little  hero  was,  in  all  probability,  indebted 
for  escaping  a most  awful  calamity; — a settler  in 
this  neighbourhood  having  lost  both  legs  a few  days 
since  by  an  exposure  similar  to  Samson’s. 

I am  now  staying  at  the  house  cf  a flourishing 
farmer,  wThose  sturdy  frame,  bold  features,  and 
thick  long  black  hair,  would,  with  his  frank  ad- 
dress, afford  as  fine  a specimen  of  the  western  bor- 
derer as  one  could  meet  with,  and  never  allow  you 
to  suspect  that  ten  or  fifteen  years  ago  he  was  a 
New-York  tradesman.  He  ‘lives,  like  all  other 
people  of  this  country,  in  a log  cabin,  which  has 
many  comforts  about  it,  however,  not  usually  found 
in  these  primitive  domicils.  Having  a large  family, 
with  no  neighbours  nearer  than  ten  miles  on  one 
side  and  twenty  on  the  other,  he  maintains  a school- 
master to  instruct  his  children : the  room  I occupy 
at  night  being  fitted  up  with  desks  and  benches  as 
a school-room.  His  farm,  which  lies  along  the 


240 


WOLVES. 


edge  of  a beautiful  and  well  watered  grove,  sup- 
plies him  with  almost  every  thing  that  he  wants  ; 
and  having  once  pursued  a different  mode  of  life, 
he  seems  now  to  realize  the  full  independence  of 
his  situation,  more  even  than  those  who  have 
always  been  brought  up  as  farmers.  I told  him 
this  morning,  as  he  sallied  out  to  cut  wrood,  with 
his  two  sons,  axe  in  hand,  all  clad  in  their  belted 
capotes  and  white  woollen  hoods,  that  I should  like 
to  meet  his  sun-burnt  features  and  independent  step 
in  Broadway,  to  see  how  many  of  his  old  acquaint- 
ances would  recognise  the  pale  mechanic  in  the 
brown  back-woodsman.  He  promised  me,  if  he 
came  in  winter,  to  appear  with  the  guise  in  which 
I then  beheld  him;  adding,  in  western  phraseology, 
“ The  way  in  which  folks  ’ll  stare,  squire,  will  be 
a caution .” 

After  being  detained  here  some  days  waiting  for 
the  St.  Louis  mail-wagon,  and  losing  my  travelling 
companion,  who,  ha\ing  bought  a horse,  has  gone 
on  by  himself,  I have  concluded  that  it  would  never 
do  to  go  out  of  this  country  without  visiting  Galena 
and  the  mining  country  ; and  as  there  is  now  a 
public  conveyance  thither,  I shall  take  the  first 
opportunity  to  go  with  it.  I have  amused  myself 
for  the  last  three  nights  in  watching  for  wolves  by 
moonlight,  at  the  edge  of  the  wood,  a few  hundred 
yards  from  the  house.  They  come  howling  round 
the  house  after  night  fall,  and  if  one  is  “ in  luck” 
at  all,  are  easily  shot.  But  last  night,  after- leaving 
my  position  but  for  five  minutes,  I heard  the  report 
of  a rifle  : and  hastening  to  the  spot,  where  a lad 


A TRAVELLING  BRIDE. 


241 


stayed  to  fill  my  place  for  a moment,  I found  that 
a gray  and  a black  wolf,  of  the  largest  kind,  had 
approached  suddenly  within  two  or  three  yards  of 
the  muzzle  of  his  gun,  and  startled  him  so  that  he 
missed  them  both.  In  the  confident  hope  of  their 
return — for  the  bait  that  we  had  thrown  about  the 
place  was  still  there — I took  the  little  fellow’s 
place,  and  wrapping  myself  in  a buffalo-skin,  lay 
watching  on  the  ground  till  nearly  daybreak  ; and 
the  enemy  then  not  making  his  appearance,  I was 
glad  to  creep  shivering  to  bed. 

Upon  entering  my  room,  which  contained  two 
beds,  I observed  after  striking  a light,  that  the  one 
opposite  to  mine  was  occupied  by  some  -new 
comers ; while  a sheet  suspended  from  the  ceiling 
near  the  pillow,  and  concealing  the  phrenology  of 
its  occupants  from  view,  was  evidently  meant  as 
a caveat  against  reconnoitring  that  part  of  the  apart- 
ment. I had  some  piquant  reflections  when  a re- 
spectable looking  traveller  and  a pretty  young  wo- 
man, who  I was  told  was  a bride  on  her  way  to  St. 
Louis,  breakfasted  with  us  the  next  morning. 

You  shall  hear  from  me  next  at  Galena.  Till 
then,  farewell ! 


VOL.  i— x 


242 


LONELY  PROSPECT. 


LETTER  XIX. 

Lonely  Prospect — Painted  Pottawattamies — A Borderer — Sup- 
per— Indian  Language — Indian  Encampment — A Runaway — A 
Wolf — Dixon’s  Ferry — Buffalo  Grove — Fatal  Ambush — Secluded 
Dells — Deserted  Cottage — Galena. 

Galena,  Upper  Mississippi,  Feb.  1. 

A furious  squall  of  snow,  which  would  have 
rendered  it  impossible  to  keep  a given  road  in  cross- 
ing the  prairie,  subsided  before  night  fall,  on  the 
day  that  I left  Boyd’s  Grove,  bound  for  the  Upper 
Mississippi;  and  as  the  calm  clear  sky  of  evening 
succeeded,  our  sleigh  glided  over  the  open  plain  at 
a rate  which  soon  made  the  cabins  behind  us  dis- 
appear in  the  distance;  while  four  fleet  horses,  with 
a good  driver,  and  but  one  passenger,  swiftly  ac- 
complished the  short  stage  of  twelve  miles,  and 
brought  us  to  the  room  where  we  were  to  pass  the 
night.  The  intervening  prairie  for  the  first  six  miles 
was  high  and  level,  with  not  a stick  of  timber — 
one  broad  snow-covered  plain,  where  you  could  see 
the  dark  figure  of  a wolf  for  miles  off,  as  it  stood  in 
relief  against  the  white  unbroken  surface.  A pros- 
pect more  bleak  and  lonely,  when  night  is  closing 
in,  and  you  press  towards  some  distant  grove, 
whose  tree-tops  cannot  yet  be  discovered  above  the 
monotonous  plains,  is  inconceivable.  Presently, 


PAINTED  POTTAWATTAMIE S. 


243 


however,  you  come  to  a break  in  the  prairie  ; a 
slight  descent  next  shelters  you  somewhat  from  the 
wind  ; and  now  you  can  discover  a wood,  which 
hitherto  had  appeared  many  miles  off,  or  perhaps 
was  not  perceptible  at  all,  that  has  pushed  a scat- 
tered clump  of  trees  here  and  there,  like  an  ad- 
vanced guard,  under  cover  of  the  ravine.  You  come 
to  the  brink  of  another  platform,  and  you  are  on  the 
edge  of  a grove  ; while  for  twenty  miles  ahead  the 
eye  ranges  over  what  looks  like  a shallow  basin  of 
immense  extent,  broken  occasionally  by  dusky 
masses,  which  seem  rather  to  repose  upon  than  to 
spring  out  of  its  surface : such  was  the  view  in  ad- 
vance, from  a point  about  six  miles  from  Boyd’s 
Grove.  The  elevation  from  which  we  descended 
was  not  more  than  twenty  feet,  and  it  commanded 
a prospect  of  as  many  miles.  It  was  like  looking 
from  the  edge  of  a snow-covered  desert  upon  a 
frozen  lake,  with  its  isles,  headlands,  and  scattered 
rocks,  and  its  waters  riveted  as  fast  as  they.  The 
rosy  rays  of  the  setting  sun  still  lingered  over  the 
scene,  as  on  one  they  longed  to  set  free  from  the 
icy  chains  which  bound  it;  while  the  calm  pale 
moon  grew  momentarily  more  bright,  as  if  her  cold 
beams  borrowed  lustre  from  the  extent  of  pure  white 
surface  over  which  they  shone. 

A single  room,  miserably  built  of  logs — the  in- 
terstices of  which  were  so  unskilfully  filled  up  with 
mud  that  I could  hear  the  night-wind  whistling 
through  them  as  we  drove  up  to  the  door — was  to 
be  our  lodging  for  the  night.  A couple  of  rifles, 
with  a powderhorn  and  a pair  of  Indian  blankets, 


244 


A BORDERER. 


lay  without,  and  two  painted  Pottawattamtes  were 
crouched  on  the  hearth,  as  I entered  the  cabin. 
One  of  them,  a slight  but  elegantly  formed  youth 
of  twenty,  sprang  at  once  to  his  feet ; while  the 
other,  a dark,  ill-looking  negro-faced  fellow,  retained 
his  squatting  posture.  They  were  dressed  in  com- 
plete suits  of  buckskin  ; both  having  their  ears  bored 
in  several  places,  with  long  drops  of  silver  pendent 
in  thick  bunches  therefrom;  while  broad  plates  sus- 
pended over  their  chests,  with  armlets  of  the  same 
metal,  made  quite  a rich  display.  Their  dress* 
was,  however,  the  only  point  in  which  they  re- 
sembled each  other ; and  the  aquiline  nose,  keen 
eyes,  and  beautifully  arched  brows  of  the  one  con- 
trasted as  strongly  with  the  heavy,  inexpressive 
look  and  thick  lips  of  the  other,  as  did  the  closely- 
fitting  hunting-frock  of  the  first,  which  a black  belt 
sown  thick  with  studs  of  brass  secured  to  his  erect 
form,  with  the  loose  shirt  that  crumpled  around  the 
crouching  person  of  the  other. 

A hard-featured  borderer,  with  long  sandy  hair 
flowing  from  under  a cap  of  wolf-skin,  and  dressed 
in  a bright  green  capote  with  an  orange-coloured 
sash,  sat  smoking  a pipe  on  the  other  side  of  the 
fireplace  ; while  one  foot  dangled  from  the  bed  on 
which  he  had  placed  himself,  and  another  rested  on 
a Spanish  saddle,  whose  holsters  were  brought  so 
near  to  the  fire,  as  it  lay  thus  carelessly  thrown  in 
a corner,  that  the  brazen  butts  of  a pair  of  heavy 
pistols  were  continually  exposed  to  view  by  the 
flickering  light.  A pale,  sickly-looking  woman, 

* See  Note  P. 


A SUPPER. 


245 


with  an  infant  in  her  arms,  and  two  small  children 
clinging  around  her  lap,  sat  in  the  centre,  and  com- 
pleted the  group.  Her  husband  and  another,  a 
hanger-on  of  the  establishment,  had  stepped  out  to 
look  after  our  horses  as  we  drove  up  to  the  door. 
The  apartment,  which  was  not  more  than  twenty 
feet  square,  was  cumbered  up  with  four  beds  ; and 
when  I thought  how  many  there  were  to  occupy 
them,  and  observed  a thin  cotton  curtain  flapping 
against  a wide  unglazed  opening,  which  formed  the 
only  window  of  this  forlorn  chamber,  I thought  that 
the  prospect  of  comfortable  accommodation  for  the 
night  was  anything  but  promising.  Presently,  how- 
ever, the  landlord  entered  with  an  armful  of  burr- 
oak  and  split  hickory,  which  crackled  and  sputtered 
at  a rate  that  made  the  Indians  withdraw  from  the 
ashes.  The  good  woman  placed  her  child  in  a 
rude  cradle  and  bestirred  herself  with  activity  and 
good  humour  in  getting  supper  ; while  the  frontiers 
man,  knocking  the  ashes  from  his  tomahawk-pipe, 
passed  me  a flask  of  Ohio  whiskey,  which,  after  my 
cold  ride,  had  all  the  virtue  of  Monongahela.  Some 
coarse  fried  pork,  with  a bowl  of  stewed  hominy, 
hot  rolls  and  wild  honey,  did  not  then  come  amiss, 
especially  when  backed  by  a cup  of  capital  coffee 
from  the  lower  country ; though  the  right  good  will 
with  which  we  all  bent  to  this  important  business 
of  eating,  did  not  prevent  me  from  noticing  the 
Frenchman-like  particularity  with  which  the  Indians 
ate  from  but  one  dish  at  a time,  though  tasting  every 
thing  upon  the  table. 

The  best  looking  of  the  two,  though  daubed  with 

x 2 


246 


INDIAN  LANGUAGE. 


paint  to  a degree  that  made  him  look  perfectly 
savage,  was  almost  the  only  Indian  I had  yet  found 
who  could  talk  English  at  all ; and  he  seemed  both 
amused  and  interested  while  I read  over  to  him  a 
slight  vocabulary  of  words  in  his  own  language,  as 
I had  taken  down  the  terms  occasionally  in  my 
pocket-book,  and  was  evidently  gratified  when  I 
added  to  their  number  from  his  lips.  He  spoke 
the  language,  indeed,  with  a clearness  and  distinct- 
ness of  enunciation  such  as  I have  only  heard  be- 
fore from  a female  tongue  ; and  the  words  thus  pro- 
nounced had  a delicacy  and  music  in  their  sound 
entirely  wanting  in  the  usual  slovenly  utterance  of 
Indians.  You  would  have  been  struck,  too,  in  the 
midst  of  our  philological  task,  to  see  the  grim- 
looking  savage  bend  over  and  rock  the  cradle,  as 
the  shivering  infant  would  commence  crying  behind 
us.  In  this  way  the  evening  passed  rapidly  enough  ; 
and  then  the  good  dame  with  her  husband  and 
children  taking  cne  bed,  the  green  rider  and  I took 
each  another,  while  the  stage-driver  and  remaining 
white  man  shared  the  fourth  together.  The  In- 
dians brought  in  their  guns  and  blankets  from  with- 
out, and  making  a mattress  of  my  buffalo-skin,  they 
placed  their  feet  to  the  fire,  and  after  a chirping 
conversation  of  a few  minutes  beneath  their  woollen 
togery,  sunk  to  slumber. 

The  moon  was  still  shining  brightly  above  as  I 
sallied  out  an  hour  before  dawn  to  wash  in  the 
snow,  and  finish  in  the  open  air  the  toilet  commen- 
ced in  the  crowded  shantee.  Our  sleigh,  a low 
clumsy  pine  box  on  a pair  of  ox-runners,  was  soon 


INDIAN  ENCAMPMENT. 


247 


after  at  the  door ; and  covering  up  my  extremities 
as  well  as  I could  in  the  wild  hay  which  filled  the 
bottom  (for  the  morning  was  intensely  cold),  I 
wound  my  fur  robe  around  my  head  to  keep  my 
face  from  freezing,  and  soon  found  myself  gliding 
at  a prodigious  rate  over  the  smooth  prairie.  The 
sun  was  several  hours  high  when  we  struck  a 
fine  grove  of  timber,  through  which  the  small  but 
rapid  river  Huron  takes  its  way  ; and  thrashing 
through  the  wintry  stream,  we  merely  paused  long 
enough  at  a shantee  on  the  opposite  side  to  adjust  some 
of  our  harness  which  was  broken  while  fording  the 
torrent,  and  reached  a comfortable  log  cabin,  in 
which  we  breakfasted  at  noon.  There  was  an 
Indian  encampment  within  gunshot  of  the  house; 
and  seeing  a melancholy  looking  squaw  with  an 
infant  in  her  arms  hanging  about  the  farm  house,  I 
left  my  landlady  turning  some  venison  cutlets  and 
grilled  grouse,  to  see  how  the  aborigines  fared  in 
this  cold  weather.  A pretty  Indian  girl  of  fourteen, 
driving  a couple  of  half-starved  ponies,  indicated 
the  camp  of  her  friends.  They  proved  to  be  a 
very  inferior  band,  having  but  two  hunters,  and 
those  inefficient  looking  fellows,  to  a score  of 
women  and  children.  Sheer  necessity' had  com- 
pelled them  to  encamp  near  a settlement;  and  a 
more  squallid,  miserable  looking  set  of  creatures  I 
never  beheld.  The  chief  of  the  party,  contrary 
to  the  usual  Indian  custom,  had  let  his  beard*  grow 
till  it  stood  out  in  small  tufts  from  every  part  of  his 
sinister-looking,  smoke-dried  face ; and  the  thong 

* See  note  Gt. 


248 


A RUNAWAY. 


of  leather  which  sustained  his  scalping-knife 
seemed  to  answer  the  double  purpose  of  binding 
the  fragments  of  his  greasy  and  tattered  capote  to 
his  body,  and  of  keeping  the  loosely  hung  compo- 
nent parts  of  the  body  itself  together.  A bluff- 
faced English  looking  white  youth  of  eighteen,  with 
a shock  head  of  reddish  curly  hair,  and  wearing  a 
hunting-frock  of  some  coarse  material,  striped  like 
a bed-ticking,  secured  to  his  body  with  a red  belt, 
from  which  a hatchet  was  suspended,  was  assist- 
ing him  in  “ spancelling”  a refractory  pony.  The 
young  gentleman,  as  I afterward  learned,  belonged 
to  the  tribe — some  runaway  apprentice,  perhaps, 
who  thought  he  was  playing  Rolla.  The  rest  of 
the  mongrel  concern  dodged  like  beavers  beneath 
the  mats  of  their  smoky  wigwams,  as  I approached 
their  common  fire  to  warm  myself. 

Returning  to  the  farm  hou^e,  I found  a little  girl 
playing  on  the  floor  with  several  strings  of  beads, 
which  the  squaw  first  mentioned  had  just  parted 
with  to  purchase  food  for  her  starving  infant.  The 
family,  however,  though  they  suffered  the  child  to 
retain  the  ornaments,  supplied  the  poor  woman 
with  food  and  comforts  to  ten  times  their  value. 
The  Indian  mother,  I was  told,  though  nearly 
fainting  from  exhaustion,  asked  for  nothing  except 
for  her  child ; and  seemed  deeply  affected  when 
after  by  signs  apprizing  the  whites  of  her  situation, 
she  obtained  the  required  sustenance. 

Upon  emerging  from  this  grove  and  getting  out 
once  more  on  the  prairie,  I could  distinguish  a 
solitary  horseman,  followed  by  his  dog,  coming 


A WOLF. 


249 


towards  us,  at  least  a mile  off ; and  remarking,  that 
as  they  approached  us  the  distance  between  the 
man  and  his  canine  companion  increased  at  a very 
unusual  rate,  I was  induced  to  scan  the  appearance 
of  the  latter  as  he  passed  within  rifle-shot  of  our 
sleigh  after  his  master  was  out  of  hail.  It  proved 
to  be  an  enormous  wolf ; and  we  actually  tracked 
the  fellow  for  eighteen  miles,  to  a thick  brake  on 
the  banks  of  a frozen  stream,  from  which  he  had 
first  leaped  into  the  traveller’s  tracks,  and  steadily 
followed  on  in  his  horse’s  steps  to  the  point  where 
he  passed  us.  The  cowardly  rascal,  being  hard 
pushed  with  hunger,  though  he  could  have  no  idea  of 
attacking  the  traveller  by  himself,  had  probably  just 
trudged  along  mile  after  mile,  in  hope  of  raising  a 
posse  comitatus  of  his  long-haired  brethren  along 
the  road,  or  of  availing  himself  after  night  fall  of 
some  accident  that  might  overtake  the  horseman, 
who  was  unconscious  of  his  volunteer  escort. 
Had  the  man  but  turned  his  horse,  and  run  the 
wolf  a hundred  yards,  he  would  have  rid  himself 
of  a companion  that  circumstances  might  possibly 
have  rendered  inconvenient. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  we  reached 
the  banks  of  Rock  River,  whose  broad  and  limpid 
current  was,  of  course,  congealed  by  the  rigours  of 
winter.  The  enterprising  and  intelligent  settler 
from  the  city  of  New- York,  who  though  repeat- 
edly driven  off  by  the  Indians,  has  been  for  fifteen 
years  established  at  “Dixon’s  Ferry,”  detained 
me  some  time  at  dinner  in  expatiating  upon  the 
healthfulness  of  the  adjacent  country,  and  the 


250 


BUFFALO  GROVE. 


abundance  of  fish  and  game  of  all  kinds  which 
frequent  the  waters  of  the  fine  stream  upon  which 
he  resides.  The  river  which  is  navigable  for 
boats  of  fifty  tons  nearly  a hundred  miles  above 
the  Mississippi,  flows  through  a gentle  valley,  with 
the  prairie  sloping  to  its  edge,  upon  either  side, 
except  when  a group  of  bold  rocks,  forming  a 
cave,  whose  entrance  has  a perfect  Gothic  arch  of 
some  twenty  feet  high,  rear  their  sudden  pinnacles 
above  the  farther  bank.  The  smoothness  of  the  ad- 
jacent ground  is  broken  here  and  there  by  an  open 
grove  ; while  an  occasional  thicket,  with  one  or 
two  rankly  overgrown  alluvial  islands  in  the  river, 
must  constitute  a beautiful  landscape  in  summer. 
This  spot  was  General  Atkinson’s  head-quarters 
during  the  Blackhawk  war,  and  may  be  con- 
sidered about  the  centre  of  operations  during  the 
recent  Indian  difficulties.  A sharp  ride  of  twelve 
miles  over  the  open  prairie  brought  us  after  dark 
to  Buffalo  grove,  the  scene  of  some  of  the  most 
melancholy  incidents  that  attended  those  commo- 
tions. 

A party  of  four  or  five  mounted  travellers,  bound  * 
from  Galena  for  the  lower  country,  were  obliged 
to  pass  the  grove  on  their  route  just  after  the  diffi- 
culties with  the  Indians  commenced.  They  had 
reached  the  edge  of  the  grove,  when  one  of  the 
number,  conceiving  that  it  might  harbour  an  ambush, 
suggested  the  expediency  of  deviating  from  the 
usual  path,  and  taking  a somewhat  circuitous 
course.  He  was  opposed,  however,  by  his  com- 
panions ; and  one  of  them,  taunting  him  with  an 


FATAL  AMBUSH. 

( 


251 


unnecessary  regard  to  prudence,  spurred  his  horse, 
and  advanced  first  into  the  fatal  wood.  His  horse 
could  have  made  but  a few  bounds— I have  seen 
his  giave,  just  within  the  edge  of  the  grove — when 
an  Indian  bullet  brought  him  to  the  ground ; and 
his  companions,  wheeling  on  their  track,  for  the 
present  escaped  farther  mischief.  On  arriving  at 
Dixon’s  Ferry,  it  was  proposed  the  next  day  to 
return  and  bury  the  poor  fellow,  who  had  thus 
fallen  a victim  to  his  own  rashness.  Eight  per- 
sons, • among  whom  was  Mr.  Savary,  the  Indian 
agent  for  the  hostile  tribes,  volunteered  upon  the 
kind  office,  which  was  performed  without  moles- 
tation ; and  the  agent,  with  the  greater  part  of 
those  present,  then  kept  on  his  way  to  the  upper 
country ; the  rest,  among  whom  was  my  informant, 
returning  to  their  home  on  Rock  River.  A con- 
fused account  is  given  of  what  followed ; as  four 
of  Mr.  Savary’s  party,  including  himself,  were 
slain  in  another  ambush ; and  those  who  escaped 
by  the  speed  of  their  horses  had  but  little  oppor- 
tunity, after  the  first  surprise,  to  observe  how  their 
companions  met  their  fate.  It  is  agreed,  however, 
that  the  unfortunate  agent,  turning  in  his  saddle 
after  the  first  fire,  was  shot  in  the  act  of  appealing 
to  the  Indians  as  their  friend  and  “ father,” — the 
reply  being  a disclaimer  of  his  official  character, 
and  the  words,  u We  have  no  longer  any  white 
father,”  accompanying  the  discharge  of  the  piece 
whose  bullet  pierced  his  brain.  The  head  of  the 
ill-fated  gentleman,  carried  off  by  the  Indians,  is 
said  to  have  been  afterward  recognised  and  re- 


252 


SECLUDED  DELLS. 


covered  from  the  savage  band.  The  Indians  fired 
the  house  of  the  settler  (an  old  New-Yorker)  at 
Buffalo  Grove ; and  the  half-burnt  timbers  and 
lonely  doorposts  contrasted  strangely,  as  I viewed 
them,  in  passing,  by  the  morning  sun,  with  the 
neat  new  log  dwelling  a few  paces  off,  in  which  I 
had  most  comfortably  spent  the  night  before. 

But  these  traces  of  savage  war  soon,  by  their 
frequency,  become  familiar. 

The  aspect  of  the  country  changes  considerably 
soon  after  passing  Rock  River.  The  prairie  is 
frequently  broken  by  sudden  ravines ; the  number 
of  groves  increases  ; the  streams  run  more  rapidly 
over  their  pebbly  beds  ; and  huge  masses  of  crumb- 
ling rock  rise  like  the  ruined  walls  of  old  castles 
along  the  mimic  vales  through  which  they  take 
their  way.  In  these  secluded  dells  a number  of 
settlers  had  ventured  to  fix  themselves  along  the 
Galena  route  ; and  though  many  have  now  returned 
to  their  precarious  homes,  the  humble  dwellings 
and  various  little  improvements  of  others  remain  as 
they  left  them  when  fleeing  with  their  families 
before  the  dreaded  savage.  With  the  appearance 
of  one  of  these  cottages  I was  struck  particularly. 
The  roots  of  a large  tree,  whose  branches  brushed 
a wall  of  rock  opposite  to  it,  had  caused  a sparkling 
brook  to  describe  the  form  of  a horse-shoe  in  wind- 
ing through  a small  alluvial  bottom,  while  a row  of 
wild  plum  trees  across  the  little  peninsula  thus 
formed  divided  it  from  the  rest  of  the  valley,  and 
just  left  room  enough  for  the  cabin  of  the  settler, 
with  a few  acres  for  a garden  around  his  door.  A 


GALENA. 


/wUti 

few  acres  more  along  the  margin  of  the  brook  sup- 
plies another  enclosure  ; and  the  fences  and  fix- 
tures exhibited  a degree  of  care  and  arrangement 
by  no  means  common  in  this  region.  But  the  ex- 
iled owner  had  never  returned  to  his  tasteful  though 
humble  home.  The  open  door  swung  loose  upon 
a single  hinge ; the  snow  lay  far  within  the  thresh- 
old ; and  a solitary  raven,  perched  upon  the  roof, 
seemed  to  consider  the  abode  of  desolation  so  much 
his  own,  that,  heedless  of  a flock  of  his  brothers 
which  rose  from  some  carrion  near  as  we  ap- 
proached the  place,  he  only  moved  sideways  along 
the  rafter,  and  gave  a solitary  croak  as  w^e  drove 

Approaching  Galena,  the  country  becomes  still 
more  broken  and  rocky,  until  at  last  a few  short 
hills,  here  called  “ knobs,”  indicated  our  approach 
to  Fever  River:  the  river  itself  at  once  became 
visible  when  we  had  wound  round  the  last  of  these, 
and  got  among  the  broken  ravines  that  seam  the 
declivity,  sloping  down  for  nearly  a mile  to  its 
margin.  Short  sudden  hills,  the  bluffs  of  the 
prairie  beyond,  partly  wooded  and  partly  faced  with 
rock,  formed  the  opposite  shore  ; while  the  town  of 
Galena  lay  scattered  along  their  broken  outline,  as 
if  some  giant  had  pitched  a handful  of  houses 
against  the  hill  side,  and  the  slimy  mud  (for  which 
the  streets  of  Galena  are  celebrated)  had  caused 
them  to  stick  there.  We  crossed  on  the  ice,  and  I 
am  now  once  more  in  a frame  house. 


VOL.  i. — y 


254 


JOURNEY  RESUMED. 


LETTER  XX. 

' \ J ’ ~ • ' ».\t  ’ 

Journey  Resumed — Old  Indian  Trader — Picturesque  Costume— • 
Striking  Landscape — Literary  Backwoodsman — Hostile  Tribes — 
A Challenge — Beautiful  Country — Sale  of  Lands — Miners— Deso- 
late Region — Upper  Mississippi — Prairie  du  Chien. 

Prairie  du  Chien,  Upper  Mississippi,  Feb.  5th. 

I had  only  been  in  Galena  a few  hours,  when  I 
learned  that  a mail  carrier  was  to  start  in  the  morn- 
ing for  fort  Crawford  on  the  Upper  Mississippi,  and 
determined  at  once  to  accompany  him ; deferring 
an  examination  of  the  country  around  Galena  till 
my  return.  It  was  about  eleven  o’clock  of  a fine 
clear  cold  day,  when  my  compagnon  de  voyage , a 
bluff-faced,  curly-pated  fellow,  in  a green  blanket 
coat,  drove  up  to  the  door  in  a better  sleigh  than  I 
had  seen  on  any  of  the  post  routes  below ; and 
wrapping  myself  up  in  a couple  of  buffalo  robes 
and  sundry  blankets,  I found  myself,  after  ascend- 
ing the  rugged  bluffs  of  Fever  River,  armed  at  all 
points  to  encounter  the  biting  wind  which  swept 
the  open  plain  beyond.  And  here  I may  remark, 
that  although  the  cold  winds  in  this  prairie  country 
have  a power  that  I had  no  idea  of  till  I experienced 
it,  yet  the  people  dress  so  much  more  rationally 
than  they  do  at  the  north  on  the  sea-board,  that 
health  and  even  comfort  are  but  little  invaded. 


OLD  INDIAN  TRADER. 


255 


I remember,  when  first  overtaken  by  the  cold 
weather  on  the  prairies,  1 was  travelling  with  a sim- 
ple furred  wrapper  as  an  overcoat  and  a pair  of  car- 
pet socks  over  my  boots ; the  last  of  which,  from 
their  clumsy  and  effeminate  appearance,  I long 
neglected  to  put  on.  But  on  arriving  one  night  at 
a lonely  shantee,  I found  an  old  Indian  trader  just 
disencumbering  himself  of  his  travelling  gear,  and 
the  lesson  has  not  been  readily  forgotten.  His  dis- 
robing reminded  me  of  the  grave-digger  in  Hamlet 
with  his  sixteen  jackets,  (a  stale  joke,  by  the  by, 
which  is  now  rarely  practised  upon  the  stage,) — 
and  a man-at-arms  of  the  fifteenth  century,  with  his 
armour  of  plate  and  triple  coat  of  twisted  mail,  was 
not  cased  in  better  proof  than  was  my  Indian  tra- 
der. Among  the  articles  of  dress  that  I recollect, 
were  a blanket  coat  over  an  ordinary  surtout,  a plaid 
cloak  upon  that,  and  a buffalo  robe  trumping  the 
whole ; while  three  pair  of  woollen  socks,  buck- 
skin moccasins,  and  long  boots  of  buffalo-skin  with 
the  fur  inside,  assisted  his  leggins  of  green  baize  in 
keeping  his  extremities  warm ; and  a huge  hood 
and  visor  of  fur  set  Jack  Frost  at  defiance  should 
he  assail  from  above.  I do  not  by  any  means  men- 
tion all  these  defences  as  constituting  the  ordinary 
apparel  of  the  country;  for  every  one  on  the  fron- 
tiers dresses  just  as  he  pleases,  and  whether  he  has 
his  blankets  and  skins  made  up  into  coats  and  boots, 
or  wears  them  loose  about  his  person,  no  one  com- 
ments upon  it.  The  utmost  freedom  of  dress  pre- 
vails ; and  you  may  see  the  same  person  three  days 
in  succession  with  a leather  hunting-shirt,  a surtout 


256 


PICTURESQUE  COSTUME. 


of  scarlet  woollen,  or  a coat  of  superfine  broadcloth 
just  from  St.  Louis,  all  worn  in  any  company  with 
the  same  air  of  independence ; and  while  several 
colours  and  textures  frequently  combine  in  the  same 
dress,  the  result  is  of  course  an  outrageous  violation 
of  taste  in  individual  instances,  but  great  pictu- 
resqueness of  costume  upon  the  whole : the  very 
figure  whose  apparel  is  most  obnoxious  to  the  laws 
of  good  taste  as  last  enacted  by  fashion,  being  often 
that  which,  of  all  others,  a painter  would  introduce 
into  a landscape  to  relieve  its  colours,  or  copy  for 
some  romantic  charm  of  its  own. 

The  country  through  which  we  now  drove,  though 
only  interspersed  here  and  there  with  woodland, 
presented  a very  different  appearance  from  the  open 
prairie  below.  In  the  vicinity  of  Galena  it  was 
much  broken  by  rocky  ravines  and  deep  gullies, 
which,  in  the  spring  of  the  year,  must  afford  a ready 
passage  for  the  water  created  by  the  melting  of 
large  bodies  of  snow ; and  far  away  towards  the 
Mississippi,  the  inequalities  of  the  surface  showed 
like  a distant  range  of  mountains,  that  on  nearer  ap- 
proach resolved  themselves  into  three  or  four  dis- 
tinct hills,  which  again  on  reaching  their  banks  pro- 
ved to  be  only  rocky  eminences,  of  a few  hundred 
feet  elevation — standing  isolated  on  the  vast  plain, 
like  excrescences  thrown  up  by  some  eruption  from 
its  surface.  Beyond  these,  again,  the  country  be- 
came beautifully  undulating ; and  when  the  warm 
light  of  sunset  glanced  along  the  tall  yellow  grass 
which  raised  its  tapering  spears  above  the  snowy 
surface,  and  the  puiple  light  of  evening  deepened 


LITERARY  BACKWOODSMAN. 


257 


in  the  scattered  groves  that  rested  on  its  bosom, 
it  required  no  exercise  of  fancy  to  conceive  that 
these  were  sloping  lawns,  and  smooth  meadows, 
and  open  parks,  which  the  gathering  shades  of  night 
were  stealing  from  the  eye.  Blit  at  last,  just  where 
the  landscape  was  becoming  almost  too  broken  to 
keep  up  these  associations  of  high  cultivation,  a 
distant  light  appeared  glimmering  at  the  bottom  of 
a rocky  valley ; and  slipping  and  floundering  through 
the  snow  which  partially  smoothed  the  rugged  de- 
scent, we  entered  a small  hamlet  of  log  huts,  and 
drove  up  to  the  door  of  a frame  building,  which 
proved  to  be  the  public  house  of  “ Mineral  Point.” 
A portly  Tennesseean,  of  some  six  feet  high,  re- 
ceived us  warmly  at  the  door,  and  hurried  me  into 
a room  where  a large  fire  of  burr-oak,  and  a smoking 
supper  of  venison  and  hot  corn-cakes,  were  alike 
welcome.  Half  a dozen  miners  in  leather  shirts  or 
belted  coats  of  Kentucky  jean  were  lounging  about 
the  establishment;  while  a tall  backwoodsman,  in 
a fringed  hunting-frock,  was  stretched  on  several 
chairs,  with  a pipe  in  one  hand,  and  the  other  resting 
on  a Pelham  novel,  which,  with  a volume  of  Shak- 
speare,  an  old  Bible,  and  the  “Western  Songster,” 
formed  a pyramid  beneath  his  brawny  arm.  “ Whir- 
ling Thunder,”  the  Winnebago  chief,  had,  as  I was 
informed,  just  left  the  establishment,  or  our  party 
would  have  been  perfect.  The  old  fellow,  who,  I 
presume,  is  superannuated,  had  been  breathing  re- 
venge and  slaughter  against  the  Sauks  and  Foxes, 
who,  he  says,  have  killed  a number  of  his  tribe, 
and  he  avows  a determination  to  come  down  upon 

y 2 


258 


HOSTILE  TRIBES. 


the  enemy  with  seven  hundred  warriors;*  though 
I believe  it  is  well  known  that  there  are  not  at 
present  half  the  number  in  his  tribe,  and  they  scat- 
tered far  and  wide  on  their  hunting  expeditions. 

* The  animosity  existing  between  these  warlike  tribes,  it  would 
seem,  has  lately  manifested  itself  beneath  the  very  guns  of  Fort 
Crawford.  In  an  article  which  appeared  in  the  St.  Louis  papers, 
while  these  pages  were  passing  through  the  press,  it  is  stated,  under 
date  mf  November  18th,  that  u The  Indians  in  the  vicinity  of  Prairie 
du  Chien  have  again  been  engaged  in  hostile  acts,  which  portend  a 
serious  termination.  A party  of  Sauks  and  Foxes,  after  killing 
several  Menomones  on  Grant  River,  attacked  a lodge  of  Winneba- 
goes  on  an  island  about  three  miles  above  Prairie  du  Chien.  It  was 
occupied  at  the  time  by  women  and  children  only,  the  warriors  being 
absent  on  a hunting  excursion.  Suddenly  the  Sauk  and  Fox  party 
made  their  appearance  before  the  lodge,  fired  into  it,  tomahawked 
and  scalped  ten  of  the  inmates.  But  one  of  the  Sauk  warriors  lost 
his  life,  and  that  was  by  the  hand  of  a Winnebago  boy,  about  fif- 
teen years  of  age.  The  youth  was  standing  at  the  door  of  the  lodge, 
between  a younger  brother  and  sister,  when  two  of  the  warriors 
made  their  appearance  and  fired  upon  them.  Recollecting  instantly 
that  an  old  gun  remained  in  the  lodge  loaded,  he  procured  it,  and 
awaited  the  return  of  the  foe,  who  had  retreated  for  the  purpose  of 
re-loading  their  guns.  As  soon  as  they  appeared  hefore  him,  he 
took  deliberate  aim  at  one  of  them,  fired,  and  the  bullet  went  through 
the  heart  of  his  enemy.  He  then  escaped  at  the  interior  of  the 
lodge,  made  his  way  for  the  river,  swam  it,  and  gave  information  of 
the  massacre  at  Fort  Crawford.  A detachment  of  troops  was  imme- 
diately ordered  out  in  pursuit  of  the  murderers,  but,  as  far  as  known, 
without  success.  The  Winnebagoes,  it  is  said,  had  determined  on 
retaliation,  and  their  warriors  were  already  collecting.  Their  foe, 
it  is  also  known,  are  ready  to  receive  them ; having  been  recently 
arming  and  equipping  themselves  for  fight.  Towards  the  Winne- 
bagoes all  parties  of  the  Sauks  and  Foxes  have  an  undying  hatred. 
They  view  them  as  having  been  the  cause,  by  their  bad  counsels,  of 
all  the  calamities  brought  upon  them  by  the  late  war,  and  as  having 
acted  a treacherous  and  infamous  part  at  the  termination  of  it.  Many 
circumstances  concur  to  make  it  more  than  probable,  that,  should  a 
conflict  take  place,  it  will  be  a long  and  bloody  one. 


A CHALLENGE, 


2o9 


As  it  was,  however,  I found  the  company  into 
which  I was  thrown  in  more  than  one  way  a^reea- 
ble.  They  were  civil  and  conversable  ; and  when 
a cigar  was  handed  me  by  a well  dressed  gentle- 
man engaged  in  the  mines,  who  had  sat  down  to 
supper  with  us,  I stretched  my  legs  before  the  fire, 
and  soon  felt  myself  perfectly  at  home.  The  ru- 
mours of  Indian  wars,  with  the  incidents  in  those 
already  gone  by,  being  thoroughly  discussed,  feats 
of  strength  and  activity  were  next  introduced ; 
whereat,  a burly,  broad-shouldered  fellow,  with  a 
head  of  hair  like  a boat’s  swab,  jumped  on  his  feet, 
and  shaking  the  flaps  of  his  rough  kersey  doublet 
like  a pair  of  wings,  he  crowed  and  swore  that  he 
could  throw  any  man  of  his  weight  in  the  mines. 
“ Why,  Bill  Armstrong,”  cried  a little  old  man, 
who  I was  assured  was  nearly  eighty  years  of  age, 
shaking  the  ashes  from  his  pipe  the  while,  “ I 
could  double  up  two  such  fellows  as  you  in  my 
time  ; and  I think  as  it  is  (slowly  rising  and  collar- 
ing the  puissant  Bill),  I’ll  whip  one  of  them  now 
for  a treat they  grappled  at  once,  and  Armstrong 
good  naturedly  allowing  the  old  man  to  put  him 
down,  a laugh  was  raised  at  his  expense.  But  Bill 
w^as  too  much  a cock  of  the  walk  to  mind  it;  and, 
striding  up  to  the  bar,  he  called  out,  “ Come  here, 
old  fellow,  and  take  your  treat — you’re  a steamboat ; 
but  who  couldn’t  be  beat  by  a fellow  that  had  forty 
years  the  advantage  of  him  !” 

The  next  day’s  sun  found  us,  when  a few  hours 
high,  in  a country  which,  though  not  a house  was 
to  be  seen  for  miles,  I can  only  compare,  with  its 


r 


260 


BEAUTIFUL  COUNTRY. 


intermingling  of  prairies  and  groves,  rocky  ravines 
and  rapid  brooks  of  sparkling  water,  to  the  appear- 
ance which  the  beautiful  cultivated  districts  along 
the  Hudson  would  present  if  the  fences  and  farm 
houses  were  taken  away.  Its  varied  aspect  was 
far  more  pleasing  to  my  eye  than  the  immense 
plains  of  table  land  below,  where  the  sound  of  a 
waterfall  is  never  to  be  heard,  and  a stone  larger 
than  a pebble  is  (unless  on  the  banks  of  the  Illinois) 
rarely  met  with.  The  soil,  indeed,  is  not  so  rich, 
but  the  country  is  unquestionably  more  healthy; 
and  though  the  climate  is  actually  more  severe  in 
winter,  yet  the  wind  is  so  much  broken  by  the  nu- 
merous groves  and  the  general  inequalities  of  sur- 
face, that  one  suffers  much  less  from  cold.  A great 
error  is  committed  by  government  in  keeping  the 
wild  land  of  this  region  out  of  market ; for  the 
patches  of  woodland,  though  frequent,  are  not  so 
dense  as  those  below  ; and  the  number  of  smelting- 
furnaces  of  lead-ore,  which  are  scattered  over  the 
whole  country  between  Rock  River  and  the  Ouis- 
consin,  tends  to  diminish  them  so  rapidly,  that  a 
dozen  years  hence,  wood  enough  will  hardly  be  left 
for  the  ordinary  purposes  of  the  farmer.  Whatever 
measures  are  adopted,  however — and  T believe  there 
is  a bill  in  relation  to  these  lands  now  pending 
in  Congress — the  pre-emption  rights  of  the  first 
settlers  should  be  secured  in  the  most  liberal  man- 
ner. Their  sufferings  from  three  Indian  wars  within 
ten  years,  and  their  endurance  of  every  risk  and  pri- 
vation, are  almost  incredible ; and,  considering  that 
it  will  take  them  some  time  now  to  recover  from 


MINERS. 


261 


the  last  affair  of  Blackhawk,  government  ought  to 
give  them  several  years’  credit ; but  the  early  sale 
of  the  lands  I believe  to  be  indispensable  to  the 
future  welfare  of  one  of  the  finest  regions  in  the 
world.  The  truth  is,  that  no  smelting  should  be 
done  in  the  interior ; but  the  mineral  should  be 
transported  to  points  where  fuel  is  more  abundant, 
and  the  timber  now  growing  upon  the  spot  left  for 
the  use  of  the  farmers  and  the  miners,  to  whom  it  is 
indispensable  for  the  prosecution  of  their  labours. 
Such  will  hardly  be  the  case  until  a property  in 
lands  is  established,  and  individuals  are  no  longer 
permitted  to  sweep  grove  after  grove  from  the  soil, 
till  the  country  begins  to  assimilate  in  some  places 
to  those  leafless  tracts  in  Illinois,  which  will  pro- 
bably remain  unsettled  prairie  for  a century  to  come. 

I was  particularly  struck  with  the  bold  life 
which  these  miners  have  long  led — the  chief  dan- 
gers of  which,  it  is  presumed,  are  now  over — by 
observing  a strong  block-house  erected  among  a 
cluster  of  small  shantees,  where  two  brothers  lived, 
with  whom  we  stopped  to  take  some  refreshment 
at  noon.  They  were  miners  and  farmers  together; 
and  carrying  on  their  business  remote  from  any 
other  house  or  settlement,  they  probably  sent  the 
mineral  and  vegetable  productions  of  their  favoured 
soil  to  market  at  Galena  in  the  same  car.  They 
had  struck  the  vein  of  ore  which  they  were  work- 
ing, in  badger  hunting — the  habits  of  that  animal 
being  of  great  assistance  to  the  miner  in  exploring 
for  mineral.  I saw  at  the  same  place  a fine  dog 
terribly  gored  by  a wild  boar — the  descendant  of 


262 


DESOLATE  REGION. 


the  domestic  hog,  which  runs  wild  in  this  region, 
and  sometimes  makes  a good  hunt. 

Our  route  hither,  which  was  by  no  means  direct, 
carried  us  through  a broken  savage  country,  where 
a thousand  clear  streams  seemed  to  have  their  birth 
among  the  rocks,  singing  away,  though  the  earth 
was  wrapped 

“ In  sap-consuming  winter’s  drizzled  snow,” 

as  if  the  leaves  of  June  quivered  over  their  crystal 
currents.  At  one  time  these  crisped  fountains 
were  the  only  objects  that  gave  life  to  a burnt 
forest  through  which  we  rode,  where  the  tall, 
branchless,  and  charred  trees  stood  motionless  on 
the  steep  hill  side,  or  lay  in  wild  disorder  as  they 
had  tumbled  from  the  rocky  heights  into  a ravine 
below.  Emerging  from  this  desolate  region,  where 
the  tracks  of  bears  and  other  wild  animals  were  to 
be  seen  on  every  side,  we  launched  out  on  one  of 
the  loveliest  prairies  I ever  beheld.  It  was  about 
a mile  wide,  and  not  more  than  four  or  five  in 
length,  and  smooth  as  a billiard  table,  with  two 
small  islets  of  wood  in  the  centre.  Our  horses, 
which  had  seemed  almost  fagged  out  while  slip- 
ping and  stumbling  among  the  rocks  and  fallen 
trees  in  the  timbered  land,  now  pricked  up  their 
ears  and  snorted  with  animation  as  they  made  our 
light  sleigh  skim  over  the  smooth  plain. 

It  was  afternoon  on  the  third  day  after  leaving 
Galena,  that  on  descending  an  abrupt  steppe  of 
about  fifty  yards,  we  came  to  a small  tributary  of 


UPPER  MISSISSIPPI. 


263 


the  Ouisconsin,  winding  through  a narrow  valley 
below.  Following  down  the  slender  rill,  whose 
banks  exhibited  no  shrubbery  save  a few  dwarf 
willows,  we  crossed  a wooded  bottom,  where  the 
long  grass  among  the  trees  shot  above  the  snow  to 
the  height  of  our  horses’  shoulders,  and  reached 
at  last  the  Ouisconsin,  where  the  stream  might  be 
near  a quarter  of  a mile  wide.  After  trying  the 
ice  in  several  places  with  long  poles,  we  ventured 
at  last  to  cross ; and,  scaling  a bold  bluff  at  the 
opposite  side,  paused  a moment  at  a trading  house, 
owned  by  a Frenchman,  to  let  our  horses  blow. 
A band  of  Winnebagoes  were  standing  at  the  door ; 
and  as  they  were  all  in  mourning  for  some  recently 
deceased  relations,*  their  broad  blunt  features, 
blackened  as  they  were,  made  them  look  like  Hot- 
tentots. A ride  of  six  miles,  through  a high  rolling 
prairie  interspersed  with  open  groves  of  oak* 
brought  us  at  last  in  view  of  the  bluffs  of  the  Upper 
Mississippi,  rising  in  rocky  masses  to  the  height  of 
four  or  five  hundred  feet  above  the  bed  of  that 
beautiful  river,  whose  iron-bound  banks  and  gentle 
crystalline  current  bear  but  little  affinity  to  the 
marshy  shores  and  turbid  tide  which  are  distin- 
guished by  the  same  name,  after  the  Missouri  gives 
a new  character  to  its  waters.  Never  shall  I forget 
the  first  view  of  “The  Father  of  Rivers,”  as  a 
reach  of  several  miles — shut  in,  partly  by  its  own 
bluffs,  and  partly  by  those  of  the  Ouisconsin,  with 
its  numerous  islets  smiling  in  the  light  of  the  setting 


\ 


♦See  note  R, 


264 


PRAIRIE  DU  CHIEN. 


sun — stretched  like  some  comely  lake  of  the  west 
before  my  eye.  It  was  girdled,  apparently,  by 
inaccessible  cliffs  on  three  sides,  and  fringed  by  a 
broad  meadow,  which,  in  its  turn,  was  bounded  and 
sheltered  by  lofty  bluffs,  on  the  fourth.  That 
meadow  lay  now  beneath  me,  and  it  was  Prairie 
du  Chien. 


APPENDIX. 


Note  A.— Page  5L 

The  story  of  Adam  Poe’s  desperate  encounter  with  two  Indians, 
as  told  in  “ Metcalf’s  Indian  Warfare  of  the  West,”  is  one  of  the 
most  characteristic  traditions  of  the  Ohio. 

It  was  about  the  close  of  the  revolution,  that  a party  of  six  or  seven 
Wyandot  Indian^  crossed  over  to  the  south  side  of  the  Ohio  River, 
fifty  miles  below  Pittsburg,  and  in  their  hostile  excursions  among 
the  early  settlers  killed  an  old  man  whom  they  found  alone  in  one 
of  the  houses  which  they  plundered.  The  news  soon  spread  among 
the  white  people ; seven  or  eight  of  whom  seized  their  rifles  and 
pursued  the  marauders.  In  this  party  were  two  brothers,  named 
Adam  and  Andrew  Poe,  strong  and  active  men,  and  much  respected 
in  the  settlement.  They  followed  up  the  chase  all  night,  and  in  the 
morning  found  themselves,  as  they  expected,  upon  the  right  track. 
The  Indians  could  now  be  easily  followed  by  their  traces  on  the  dew. 
The  print  of  one  very  large  foot  was  seen,  and  it  was  thus  known 
that  a famous  Indian  of  uncommon  size  and  strength  must  be  of  the 
party.  The  track  led  to  the  river.  The  whites  followed  it  directly, 
Adam  Poe  excepted ; who,  fearing  that  they  might  be  taken  by  sur- 
prise, broke  off  from  the  rest.  His  intention  was  to  creep  along  the 
edge  of  the  bank  'under  cover  of  the  trees  and  bushes,  and  to  fall 
upon  the  savages  so  suddenly  that  he  might  get  them  between  his 
own  fire  and  that  of  his  companions.  At  the  point  where  he  sus- 
pected they  were,  he  saw  the  rafts  which  they  were  accustomed  to 
push  before  them  when  they  swam  the  river,  and  on  which  they 
placed  their  blankets,  tomahawks,  and  guns.  The  Indians  them- 
selves he  could  not  see,  and  Was  obliged  to  go  partly  down  the  bank 
to  get  a shot  at  them.  As  he  descended  with  his  rifle  cocked,  he 
discovered  two — the  celebrated  large  Indian  and  a smaller  one — 
separated  from  the  others,  and  holding  their  rifles  also  cocked  in  their 
hands.  He  took  aim  at  the  large  one,  but  his  rifle  snapped  without 
YOL.  I. — Z 


266 


APPENDIX, 


giving  the  intended  fire.  The  Indians  turned  instantly  at  the 
sound : Poe  was  too  near  them  to  retreat,  and  had  not  time  to  cock 
and  take  aim  again.  Suddenly,  he  leaped  down  upon  them,  and 
caught  the  large  Indian  by  the  clothes  on  his  breast,  and  the  small 
one  by  throwing  an  arm  round  his  neck : they  all  fell  together,  but 
Poe  was  uppermost.  While  he  was  struggling  to  keep  down  the 
large  Indian,  the  small  one,  at  a word  spoken  by  his  fellow- savage, 
slipped  his  neck  out  of  Poe’s  embrace,  and  ran  to  the  raft  for  a toma- 
hawk. The  large  Indian  at  this  moment  threw  his  arms  about  Poe’s 
body  and  held  him  fast,  that  the  other  might  come  up  and  kill  him. 
Poe  watched  the  approach  and  the  descending  arm  of  the  small  In- 
dian so  well,  that,  at  the  instant  of  the  intended  stroke,  he  raised  his 
foot,  and  by  a vigorous  and  skilful  blow,  knocked  the  tomahawk 
from  the  assailant’s  hand.  At  this,  the  large  Indian  cried  out  with 
an  exclamation  of  contempt  for  the  small  one.  The  latter,  however, 
caught  his  tomahawk  again,  and  approached  more  cautiously,  waving 
his  arm  up  and  down  with  mock  blows  to  deceive  Poe  as  to  the 
stroke  which  was  intended  to  be  real  and  fatal.  Poe,  however,  was 
so  vigilant  and  active  that  he  averted  the  tomahawk  from  his  head, 
and  received  it  upon  his’  wrist  with  a considerable  wound,  deep 
enough. to  cripple  but  not  entirely  to  destroy  the  use  of  his  hand.  In 
this  crisis  of  peril  he  made  a violent  effort,  and  broke  loose  from  the 
large  Indian.  He  snatched  a rifle,  and  shot  the  small  one  as  he  ran 
up  a third  time  with  his  lifted  tomahawk.  The  large  Indian  was 
now  on  his  feet,  and  grasping  Poe  by  the  shoulder  and  the  leg, 
hurled  him  in  the  air,  heels  over  head,  upon  the  shore.  Poe  in- 
stantly rose,  and  a new  and  more  desperate  struggle  ensued.  The 
bank  was  slippery,  and  they  fell  into  the  water,  when  each  strove  to 
drown  the  other.  Their  efforts  were  long  and  doubtful,  each  alter- 
nately under  and  half- strangled ; until  Poe,  fortunately,  grasped 
with  his  unwounded  hand  the  tuft  of  hair  upon  the  scalp  of  the  In- 
dian, and  forced  his  head  into  the  water.  This  appeared  to  be 
decisive  of  hi§'  fate,  for  soon  he  manifested  all  the  symptoms  of  a 
drowning  man  bewildered  in  the  moment  of  death.  Poe  relaxed  his 
hold,  and  discovered  too  late  the  stratagem.  The  Indian  was  in- 
stantly upon  his  feet  again,  and  engaged  anew  in  the  fierce  contest 
for  victory  and  life.  They  were  naturally  carried  farther  into  the 
stream,  and  the  current  becoming  stronger,  bore  them  beyond  their 
depth.  They  were  now  compelled  to  loosen  their  hold  upon  each 
other,  and  to  swim  for  mutual  safety.  Both  sought  the  shore  to 
seize  a gun ; but  the  Indian  was  the  best  swimmer,  and  gained  it 


NOTES. 


267 


first.  Poe  then  turned  immediately  back  into  the  water  to  avoid  a 
greater  danger ; meaning  to  dive,  if  possible,  to  escape  the  fire. 
Fortunately  for  him,  the  Indian  caught  up  the  rifle  which  had  been 
discharged  into  the  breast  of  the  smaller  savage.  At  this  critical 
juncture  Poe’s  brother  Andrew  presented  himself.  He  had  just 
left  the  party  who  had  been  in  pursuit  of  the  other  Indians,  and 
who  had  killed  all  but  one  of  them  at  the  expense  of  the  lives  of 
three  of  their  own  number.  He  had  heard  that  Adam  was  in  great 
peril,  and  alone  in  a fight  with  two  against  him : for  one  of  the 
whites  had  mistaken  Adam  in  the  wTater  with  his  bloody  hand  for  a 
wounded  Indian,  and  fired  a bullet  into  his  shoulder.  Adam  now 
cried  out  to  his  brother  to  kill  the  big  Indian  on  the  shore  ; but 
Andrew’s  gun  had  been  discharged,  and  was  not  again  loaded. 
The  contest  was  now  between  the  savage  and  Andrew.  Each 
laboured  to  load  his  rifle  first.  The  Indian,  after  putting  in  his 
powder,  and  hurrying  his  motions  to  force  down  the  ball,  drew  out 
his  ramrod  with  such  violence  as  to  throw  it  some  3^ards  into  the 
water.  While  he  ran  to  pick  it  up,  Andrew  gained  an  advantage, 
as  the  Indian  had  still  to  ram  his  bullet  home.  But  a hair  'would 
have  turned  the  scale;  for  the  savage  was  just  raising  his  gun  to 
his  eye  with  unerring  aim,  when  he ‘received  the  fatal  fire  of  the 
backwoodsman.  Andrew  then  jumped  into  the  river  to  assist  his 
wounded  brother  to  the  shore  ; but  Adam,  thinking  more  of  carrying 
the  big  Indian  home  as  a trophy,  than  of  his  own  wounds,  urged 
Andrew  to  go  back  and  prevent  the  struggling  savage  from  rolling 
himself  into  the  current  and  escaping.  Andrew,  however,  was 
too  solicitous  for  the  fate  of  Adam  to  allow  him  to  obey ; and  the 
high-souled  Wyandot,  jealous  of  his  honour  as  a warrior,  even  in 
death,  and  knowing  well  the  intention  of  his  wdiite  conquerors, 
succeeded  in  retaining  life  and  action  long  enough  to  reach  the 
current,  by  which  his  dead  body'  was  swept  down  beyond  the 
chance  of  pursuit. 

[The  above  account  is  abridged  from  the  narrative  given  in  the 
interesting  compilation  published  in  early  life  by  Dr.  Samuel  L. 
Metcalf ; since  better  known  as  the  ingenious  author  of  “ A New 
Theory  of  Magnetism,”  e:  Molecular  Attractions,”  &c.  The  work 
is  believed  to  be  out  of  print;  and  it  is  a subject  of  regret  that  Dr. 
M.,  who  was  born  among  the  scenes  celebrated  in  these  wild  nar- 
ratives, cannot  find  time  amid  his  graver  researches  to  give  his 
youthful  publication  in  a new  dress  to  the  wrorld.] 


268 


APPENDIX, 


Note  B, — Page  57. 

Colonel  James  Smith,  of  the  provincial  forces,  who  was  a prisoner 
in  Fort  du  duesne  at  the  time,  and  saw  the  attacking  party  march 
out  to  Braddock’s  Field,  estimates  their  number  at  even  less.  The 
following  is  his  account  (as  published  in  1799)  of  what  passed  in 
the  Fort  immediately  previous  and  subsequent  to  the  conflict. 

“ On  the  9th  day  of  July  1755,  I heard  a great  stir  in  the  Fort. 
As  I could  then  walk  with  a staff  in  my  hand,  I went  out  of  the 
door,  which  was  just  by  the  wall  of  the  Fort,  and  stood  upon  the 
wall,  and  viewed  the  Indians  in  a huddle  before  the  gate,  where 
were  barrels  of  powder,  bullets j flints,  &c.,  and  every  one  taking 
what  suited : I saw  the  Indians  also  march  off  in  rank  entire : like- 
wise the  French,  Canadians,  and  some  regulars.  After  viewing  the 
Indians  and  French  in  different  positions,  I computed  them  to  be  about 
four  hundred,  and  wondered  that  they  attempted  to  go  out  against 
Braddock  with  so  small  a party.  I was  then  in  high  hopes  that  I 
would  soon  see  them  flying  before  the  British  troops,  and  that 
General  Braddock  would  take  the  Fort  and  rescue  me.  I re- 
mained anxious  to  know  the  event  of  this  day ; and  in  the  afternoon 
I again  observed  a great  noise  and  commotion  in  the  Fort ; and 
though  at  that  time  I could  not  understand  much,  yet  I found  that 
it  was  the  voice  of  joy  and  triumph,  and  found  that  they  had  re- 
ceived what  I called  bad  news.  I had  observed  some  of  the  old 
country  soldiers  speak  Dutch ; and  as  I spoke  Dutch,  I went  to  one 
of  them  and  asked  him  what  was  the  news.  He  told  me  that  a 
runner  had  just  arrived,  who  said  that  Braddock  would  certainly 
be  defeated ; that  the  Indians  and  French  had  surrounded  him,  and 
were  concealed  behind  trees  and  in  gullies,  and  kept  a constant  fire 
upon  the  English,  and’  that  they  saw  the  English  falling  in  heaps 
and  if  they  did  not  take  the  river,  which  was  the  only  gap,  and 
make  their  escape,  there  would  not  be  one  man  left  alive  before 
sunset.  Some  time  after  this  I heard  a company  of  Indians  and 
French  coming  in ; I observed  that  they  had  a great  many  bloody 
scalps,  grenadiers’  caps,  British  canteens,  bayonets,  &c.,  with  them. 
They  brought  the  news  that  Braddock  was  defeated.  After  that, 
another  company  came  in,  which  appeared  to  be  about  one  hundred, 
and  chiefly  Indians  ; and  it  seemed  to  me  that  almost  every  one  of 
this  company  was  carrying  scalps : after  this  came  another  com- 
pany, with  a number  of  wagon-horses,  and  also  a great  many 
scalps.  Those  that  were  coming  in  and  those  that  had  arrived 


NOTES. 


269 


kept  a constant  firing  of  small- arms,  and  also  the  great  guns  in  the 
Fort , which  were  accompanied  with  the  most  hideous  shouts  and 
yells  from  all  quarters,  so  that  it  appeared  to  me  as  if  the  infernal 
regions  had  broken  loose.  About  sunset  I beheld  a small  party 
coming  in  with  about  a dozen  prisoners,  stripped  naked,  with  their 
hands  tied  behind  their  backs,  and  their  faces  and  part  of  their 
bodies  blacked.  These  prisoners  they  burnt  to  death  on  the  banks  of 
the  Alleghany  River,  opposite  to  the  Fort.  I stood  on  the  Fort  wall 
until.  1 beheld  them  begin  to  bum  one  of  these  men.  They  had 
tied  him  to  a stake,  and  kept  touching  him  with  firebrands,  red-hot 
irons,  &c.,  and  he  screaming  in  a most  doleful  manner,  the  Indians 
in  the  mean  time  yelling  like  infernal  spirits.  As  this  scene  ap- 
peared too  shocking  for  me  to  behold,  I returned  to  my  lodging 
both  sore  and  sorry.” — A Narrative  of  the  most  remarkable 
Occurrences  in  the  Life  and  Travels  of  Colonel  James  Smith, 
during  his  Captivity  among  the  Indians , from  the  year  1756 
until  1759. 

Note  C. — Page  112. 

It  was  in  this  battle  that  the  noble  Tecumseh  fell — dying,  as  it 
was  supposed,  by  a pistol-shot  from  Col.  Johnson.  If  Thatcher’s 
Indian  Biography  has  not  already  made  the  reader  familiar  with  the 
career  of  this  famous  savage,  he  is  referred  to  Mr.  Schoolcraft’s 
Travels,  where  an  authentic  account  of  Tecumseh,  interspersed 
With  many  characteristic  anecdotes,  will  be  found.  There  is 
also  a succinct  biographical  sketch  of  him  in  the  Em^clopsedia 
Americana,  which  concludes  by  summing  up  his  qualities  as 
follows : — 

il  Tecumseh  was  a remarkable  man,  fitted  for  obtaining  greatness 
both  in  peace  and  war.  His  eloquence  was  vivid  and  powerful. 
He  was  sagacious  in  contriving^  and  accomplishing  his  objects, 
and  by  his  address  obtained  an  unlimited  influence  over  his  savage 
brethren.  Throughout  life  he  was  exemplary  in  his  habits  of 
temperance  and  adherence  to  truth.  He  was  disinterested, 
generous,  hospitable,  and  humane.  He  married  at  a mature  age, 
in  consequence  of  the  persuasions  of  his  friends,  and  left  one  child. 
In  person  he  was  about  five  feet  ten  inches  high,  with  handsome 
features,  a symmetrical  and  powerful  frame,  and  an  air  of  dignity 
and  defiance.” 


z 2 


270 


APPENDIX. 


Note  D. — Page  138. 

11  The  Ottavvas  say  that  there  are  two  great  Beings  that  rule  and 
govern  the  universe,  who  are  at  war  with  each  other ; the  one  they 
call  Manet o,  and  the  other  Matche-Maneto.  They  say  that 
Maneto  is  all  kindness  and  love,  and  that  Matche-Maneto  is  an  evil 
spirit  that  delights  in  doing  mischief ; and  some  of  them  think  that 
they  are  equal  in  power,  and  therefore  worship  the  evil  spirit  out 
of  a principle  of  fear.  Others  doubt  which  of  the  two  may  be 
the  most  powerful,  and  therefore  endeavour  to  keep  in  favour  with 
both,  by  giving  each  of  them  some  kind  of  worship.  Others  say 
that  Maneto  is  the  first  great  cause,  and  therefore  must  be  all- 
powerful  and  supreme,  and  ought  to  be  adored  and  worshipped ; 
whereas  Matche-Maneto  ought  to  be  rejected  and  despised.” — Col. 
Smith's  Narrative. 

Note  E. — Page  168. 

“The  Pottawattamies,  whose  name,  as  sounded  by  themselves, 
is  Po-ta-wa-to-mi,  (in  their  language,  1 We  are  making  Fire’,) — 
appear  to  be  connected,  not  only  by  language,  but  also  by  their 
manners,  customs,  and  opinions,  with  the  numerous  nations  of 
Algonquin  origin.  ****** 

Their  notions  of  religion  appear  to  be  of  the  most  simple  kind — 
they  believe  in  the  existence  of  an  only  God,  whom  they  term 
Kasha-Maneto,  or  Great  Spirit.  Kasha  means  great,  and  Maneto 
an  irresistible  being.  The  epithet  of  Kasha  is  never  applied  to 
any  other  word  but  as  connected  with  the  Supreme  Being.” 

[Here,  with  a more  minute  account  of  the  usages  of  this  tribe, 
follows  an  examination  of  the  charge  of  cannibalism  brought 
against  the  Pottawattamies  by  numerous  travellers.] 

“ The  Pottawattamies  have  a number  of  war-songs,  formed  for 
the  most  part  of  one  or  two  ideas,  expressed  in  short  and  forcible 
sentences,  which  they  repeat  over  and  over  in  a low  humming  kind 
of  tune,  which  to  our  ears  appeared  very  monotonous  : they  have  no 
love-songs;  the  business  of  singing  (among  them*)  being  always 
connected  with  warlike  avocations.  Singing  is  always  attended  by 
the  dance.  The  only  musical  instruments  which  they  use  are  the 
drum,  rattle,  and  a kind  of  flageolet.  Their  games  are  numerous 
and  diversified ; they  resemble  many  of  those  known  to  civilized 
men — such  as  gymnastic  exercises,  battledore,  pitching  the  bar,  ball, 

* It  is  otherwise,  at  least,  with  the  Ottawas,  Chippewas,  and  Monomones. 


NOTES, 


271 


tennis,  and  cup-ball,  for  which  they  use  the  spur  of  the  deer  with  a 
string  attached  to  it. 

“ The  Pottawattamies  are,  for  the  most  part,  well-proportioned  ; 
about  five  feet  eight  inches  in  height ; possessed  of  much  muscular 
strength  in  the  arm,  but  rather  weak  in  the  back,  with  a strong 
neck ; endowed  with  considerable  agility.” 

[The  above  is  from  Major  Long’s  Second  Expedition,  performed 
by  order  of  the  Secretary  of  War,  in  1823.  The  number  of  the 
Pottawattamies  was  then  estimated  at  about  3000.] 

According  to  the  information  of  one  of  their  chiefs,  “ the  Pot- 
tawattamies believe  that  they  came  from  the  vicinity  of  the  Sault 
de  St.  Marie,  where  they  presume  that  they  were  created.  A 
singular  belief  which  they  entertain  is,  that  the  souls  of  the  departed 
have,  on  their  way  to  the  great  prairie,  to  cross  a large  stream, 
over  which  a log  is  placed  as  a bridge,  but  that  this  is  in  such  con- 
stant agitation  that  none  but  the  spirits  of  good  men  can  pass  over 
it  in  safety ; while  those  of  the  bad  slip  from  the  log  into  the  water, 
and  are  never  after  heard  of.  This  information  they  pretend  to  have 
had  revealed  to  them  by  one  of  their  ancestors,  who,  being  dead, 
travelled  to  the  edge  of  the  stream,  but,  not  liking  to  venture  on 
the  log,  determined  -to  return  to  the  land  of  the  living;  which 
purpose  he  effected,  having  been  seen  once  more  among  his  friends 
two  days  after  his  reputed  death.  He  informed  them  of  what  he 
had  observed,  and  further  told  them  that,  while  on  the  verge  of  the 
stream,  he  had  heard  the  sounds  of  the  drum,  to  the  beat  of  which 
the  blessed  were  dancing  on  the  opposite  prairie.” — Narrative  of 
an  Expedition  to  the  Source  of  St.  Peter's  River , by  W.  H 
Keating,  A.  M .,  fyc. 

Note  F. — Page  169. 

“ In  descending  the  Ontonagon  River,  which  falls  into  Lake 
Superior,  our  Indian  guides  stopped  on  the  east  side  of  the  river  to 
examine  a bear-fall  that  had  been  previously  set,  and  were  over- 
joyed to  find  a large  bear  entrapped.  As  it  was  no  great  distance 
from  the  river,  we  all  landed  to  enjoy  the  sight.  The  animal  sat 
upon  his  fore-paws,  facing  us,  the  hinder  paws  being  pressed  to  the 
ground  by  a heavy  weight  of  logs,  which  had  been  arranged  in 
such  a manner  as  to  allow  the  bear  to  creep  under ; and  when,  by 
seizing  the  bait,  he  had  sprung  the  trap,  he  could  not  extricate 
himself,  although  with  his  fore-paws  he  had  demolished  a part  of 
the  work.  After  viewing  him  for  some  time,  a ball  was  fired 


272 


APPENDIX. 


through  his  head,  but  did  not  kill  him.  The  bear  kept  his  position, 
and  seemed  to  growl  in  defiance.  A second  ball  was  aimed  at  the 
heart,  and  took  effect ; but  he  did  not  resign  the  contest  immediately, 
and  was  at  last  despatched  with  an  axe.  As  soon  as  the  bear  fell, 
one  of  the  Indians  walked  up,  and  addressing  him  by  the  name  of 
Muckwah,  shook  him  by  the  paw  with  a smiling  countenance,  sa}r- 
ing,  in  the  Indian  language,  he  was  sorry  he  had  been  under  the  ne- 
cessity of  killing  him,  and  hoped  that  the  offence  would  be  forgiven, 
particularly  as  Long  Knife  (an  American)  had  fired  one  of  the 
balls.” — Schoolcraft' s Journal . 

Note  G. — Page  170. 

“ The  Ottawas  have  a very  useful  kind  of  tents  which  they  carry 
with  them,  made  of  flags  platted  and  stitched  together  in  a very 
artful  manner,  so  as  to  turn  rain  or  wind  well.  Each  mat  is  made 
fifteen  feet  long,  and  about  five  broad.  In  order  to  erect  this  kind 
of  tent,  they  cut  a number  of  long  straight  poles,  which  they  drive 
in  the  ground  in  the  form  of  a circle,  leaning  inwards  j then  they 
spread  the  mats  on  these  poles,  beginning  at  the  bottom  and  ex- 
tending up,  leaving  only  a hole  in  the  top  uncovered,  and  this  hole 
answers  the  place  of  a chimney.  They  make  a fire  of  dry  split 
wood  in  the  middle,  and  spread  down  bark-mats  and  skins  for 
bedding,  on  which  they  sleep  in  a crooked  posture  all  round  the 
fire,  as  the  length  of  their  beds  will  not  admit  of  their  stretching 
themselves.  In  place  of  a door,  they  lift  up  one  end  of  a mat,  and 
creep  in  and  let  the  mat  fall  down  behind  them.  These  tents  are 
warm  and  dry,  and  tolerably  clear  of  smoke.  Their  lumber  they 
keep  under  birch-bark  canoes,  which  they  carry  out  and  turn  up  for 
a shelter,  when  they  keep  everything  from  the  rain.  Nothing  is 
in  the  tents  but  themselves  and  their  bedding.” — Col.  Smith's 
Narrative. 

Note  H.— Page  189. 

“ The  Carey  Mission-house,  so  designated  in  honour  of  the  late 
Mr.  Carey,  the  indefatigable  apostle  of  India,  is  situated  within 
about  a mile  of  the  river,  and  twenty-five  miles  (by  land)  above  its 
mouth.  The  ground  upon  which  it  is  erected  is  the  site  of  an 
ancient  and  extensive  Pottawattami  village,  now  no  longer  in 
existence.  The  establishment  was  instituted  by  the  Baptist  Mis- 
sionary Society  in  Washington,  and  is  under  the  superintendence 
of  the  Rev.  Mr.  M‘Coy ; a man  whom,  from  all  the  reports  we 


NOTES. 


273 


heard  of  him,  we  should  consider  as  very  eminently  qualified  for 
the  important  trust  committed  to  him.  The  plan  adopted  in  the 
school  proposes  to  unite  a practical  with  an  intellectual  education. 
The  boys  are  instructed  in  the  English  language,  in  reading, 
writing,  and  arithmetic.  They  are  made  to  attend  to  the  usual 
occupations  of  a farm,  and  to  perform  every  occupation  connected 
with  it — such  as  ploughing,  planting,  harrowing,  &c. : in  these 
pursuits  they  appear  to  take  great  delight.  The  system  being  well 
regulated,  they  find  time  for  everything,  not  only  for  study  and 
labour,  but  also  for  innocent  recreation,  in  which  they  are  encouraged 
to  indulge.  The  females  receive  in  the  school  the  same  instruction 
which  is  given  to  the  boys ; and  are,  in  addition  to  this,  taught 
spinning,  weaving,  and  sewing  (both  plain  and  ornamental).  They 
were  just  beginning  to  embroider — an  occupation  which  may  by 
some  be  considered  as  unsuitable  to  the  situation  which  they  are 
destined  to  hold  in  life,  but  which  appears  to  us  to  be  very  judi- 
ciously used  as  a reward  and  stimulus : it  encourages  their  taste 
and  natural  talent  for  imitation,  which  is  very  great ; and,  by  teach- 
ing them  that  occupation  may  be  connected  with  amusement, 
prevents  their  relapsing  into  indolence.  They  are  likewise  made 
to  attend  to  the  pursuits  of  the  dairy;  such  as  the  milking  of  cows, 
churning  of  milk,  &c.  The  establishment  is  intended  to  be  opened 
for  children  from  seven  to  fourteen  years  old ; they  very  properly 
receive  them  at  a much  earlier  age,  and  even — where  a great  desire 
of  learning  was  manifested — older  persons  have  been  admitted.  All 
appear  to  be  very  happy,  and  to  make  as  rapid  progress  as  white 
children  of  the  same  age  would  make.  Their  principal  excellence 
rest  in  works  of  imitation ; they  write  astonishingly  well,  and  many 
display  great  natural  talent  for  drawing.  The  institution  receives 
the  countenance  of  the  most  respectable  among  the  Indians,  who 
visit  the  establishment  occasionally,  appear  pleased  with  it,  and 
show  their  favour  to  it  by  presents  of  sugar,  venison,  &c.,  which 
they  often  make  to  the  family  of  the  missionary.  The  establish- 
ment, being  sanctioned  by  the  War  Department,  receives  annually 
one  thousand  dollars  from  the  United  States,  for  the  support  of  a 
teacher  and  blacksmith,  according  to  the  conditions  of  the  treaty 
concluded  at  Chicago,  in  1821,  by  Governor  Cass  and  Mr.  Sibley, 
commissioners  on  the  part  of  the  United  States.” 

[The  above  interesting  account  of  the  Carey  Mission  is  abridged 
from  that  given  in  the  narrative  of  Long’s  expedition.  The  time 


274 


APPENDIX. 


that  has  elapsed  since  it  originally  appeared  has  of  course  diminished 
its  present  value;  but  the  author  not  having  had  an  opportunity 
of  visiting  the  establishment,  and  finding,  from  all  the  inquiries  he 
could  make  regarding  it,  that  the  institution  is  sustaining  itself 
efficiently  upon  the  plan  above  detailed,  he  has  thought  that  it 
would  be  more  satisfactory  to  the  reader  to  have  this  compendium 
of  an  official  report  in  the  Appendix,  than  to  dwell  upon  any 
hearsay  mforhiation  which  he  might  have  supplied  in  the  text.] 

Note  I. — Page  189. 

“ They  made  their  winter  cabins  in  the  following  form : they  cut 
logs  about  fifteen  feet  long,  and  laid  these  logs  upon  each  other,  and 
drove  posts  in  the  ground  ‘at  each  end,  to  keep  them  together ; the 
posts  they  tied  together  at  the  top  with  bark ; and  by  this  means 
raised  a wall  fifteen  feet  long  and  about  four  feet  high,  and  in  the 
same  manner  they  raised  another  wall  opposite  to  this  at  about 
twelve  feet  distance : then  they  drove  forks  in  the  ground  in  the 
centre  of  each  end,  and  laid  a strong  pole  from  end  to  end  on  these 
forks  : and  from  these  walls  to  the  pole  they  set  up  poles  instead  of 
rafters,  and  on  these  they  tied  small  poles  in  place  of  laths,  and  a 
cover  was  made  of  lynn-bark,  which  will  run  (peel)  even  in  the 
winter  season.  At  the  end  of  these  walls  they  set  up  split  timber, 
so  that  they  had  timber  all  round,  excepting  a door  at  each  end : at 
the  top,  in  place  of  a chimney,  they  left  an  open  place  ; and  for 
bedding  they  laid  down  the  aforesaid  kind  of  bark,  on  which  they 
spread  bear-skins : from  end  to  end  of  this  hut,  along  the  middle, 
there  ..were  fires,  which  the  squaws  made  of  dry  split  wrood  ; and 
the  holes  or  open  places  that  appeared  the  squaws  stopped  with 
moss,  which  they  collected  from  old  logs ; and  at  the  door  they 
hung  a bear-skin ; and,  notwithstanding  the  winters  are  hard  here, 
our  lodging  was  much  better  than  I expected.” — Col.  Smith's 
Narrative. 

Note  J. — Page  191. 

The  ordinary  appendages  of  a “sugar  camp,”  and  the  process  of 
making  sugar,  are  described  in  the  following  extract  from  the  work 
above  quoted.  “ In  this  month  we  began  to  make  sugar.  As 
some  of  the  elm-bark  will  strip  at  this  season,  the  squaws,  after 
finding  a tree  that  would  do,  cut  it  down ; and  with  a crooked  stick, 
broad  and  sharp  at  the  end,  took  the  bark  off  the  tree  ; and  of  this 
bark  made  vessels  in  a curious  manner,  that  would  hold  about  two 


NOTES. 


275 


gallons  each  : they  made  about  one  hundred  of  these  land  of  vessels. 
In  the  sugar-tree  they  cut  a notch,  and  stuck  in  a tomahawk;  in 
the  place  where  they  stuck  the  tomahawk  they  drove  a long  chip, 
in  order  to  carry  the  water  out  from  the  tree,  and  under  this  they 
set  their  vessel  to  receive  it ; they  also  made  bark  vessels  for  carry- 
ing the  water,  that  would  hold  about  four  gallons  each ; they  had 
two  brass  kettles  that  held  about  fifteen  gallons  each,  and  other 
smaller'  kettles,  in  which  they  boiled  the  water  as  fast  as  it  was 
collected ; they  made  vessels  of  bark,  that  would  hold  about  one 
hundred  gallons  each,  for  containing  the  water  • and  though  the 
sugar-trees  did  not  run  every  day,  they  had  always  a sufficient 
quantity  of  water  to  keep  them  boiling  during  the  whole  sugar- 
season.” — Col.  Smith’s  Narrative. 

Note  K.—Page  199. 

. 

The  town  of  Chicago  has  become  so  important  a place,  and  is  so 
rapidly  developing  its  resources,  as  to  call  for  a more  particular 
notice  than  it  receives  in  the  text.  Its  sudden  strides  to  prosperity 
can  be  best  estimated,  however,  by  first  perceiving  the  condition 
and  prospects  of  Chicago  as  they  presented  themselves  to  Major 
Long’s  party  when  they  visited  it  ten  years  since.  “The  village 
presents  no  cheering  prospect,  as,  notwithstanding  its  antiquity,  it 
consists  of  but  few  huts,  inhabited  by  a miserable  race  of  men, 
scarcely  equal  to  the  Indians,  from  whom  they  are  descended. 
Their  log  or  bark-houses  are  low,  filthy,  and  disgusting,  displaying 
not  the  least  trace  of  comfort.  Chicago  is,  perhaps,  one  of  the 
oldest  settlements  in  the  Indian  country.  A fort  is  said  to  have 
formerly  existed  there : mention  is  made  of  the  place  as  having  been 
visited  in  1G71  by  Perot,  who  found  * Chicagou’  to  be  the  residence 
of  a powerful  chief  of  the  Miamis.  The  number  of  trails  centring 
all  at  this  spot,  and  their  apparent  antiquity,  indicate  that  this  was 
probably  for  a long  while  the  site  of  a large  Indian  village.  As  a 
place  of  business,  it  offers  no  inducement  to  the  settler ; for  the  whole 
annual  amount  of  the  trade  on  the  lake  did  not  exceed  the  cargo  of 
five  or  six  schooners,  even  at  the  time  when  the  garrison  received 
its  supplies  from  Maciknaw.” — Long's  Second  Expedition , vol.  h 
p.  164. 

Contrast  this  desolate  picture — not  with  the  representation  made 
in  the  text,  but — with  the  existing  condition  of  the  place,  with  the 
alterations  that  have  taken  place  since  the  writer  left  there,  not  yet 
a year  ago.  He  is  informed  by  a gentleman  recently  from  Illinois, 


27  6 


APPENDIX. 


that  Chicago,  which  but  eighteen  months  since  contained  but  two 
or  three  frame-buildings  and  a few  miserable  huts,  has  now  five 
hundred  houses,  four  hundred  of  which  have  been  erected  this  year, 
and  two  thousand  two  hundred  inhabitants.  A year  ago  there 
was  not  a place  of  public  worship  in  the  town ; there  are  now  five 
churches  and  two  school  houses,  and  numerous  brick  stores  and  ware- 
houses. The  shipping-lists  of  daily  arrivals  and  departures  show 
how  soon  the  enterprise  and  activity  of  our  citizens  have  discovered 
and  improved  the  capabilities  of  that  port.  There  have  been  three 
hundred  arrivals  this  year,  and  more  than  50,000  dollars’  worth  of 
salt  has  been  sold  there  this  season,  and  of  European  and  domestic 
merchandise  to  the  amount  of  400,000  dollars.  A line  of  four 
steam-boats,  of  the  largest  class  of  lake-boats,  and  regular  lines  of 
brigs  and  schooners,  are  now  established  between  that  port  and  the 
principal  ports  of  the  lower  lakes. 

It  is  gratifying  to  hear  of  such  improvement  in  the  western 
country,  and  to  have  predictions  so  recently  made  of  the  growth  and 
prosperity  of  this  point  in  particular,  thus  far  more  than  fulfilled. 

Note  L. — Page  203. 

The  Indians  that  frequent  the  neighbourhood  of  Chicago  (pro- 
nounced Tshicawgo),  though  not  so  numerous,  are  composed  of  the 
same  mixture  of  different  tribes  which  Major  Long  noticed  ten 
years  since.  They  are  chiefly  Pottawattamies  and  Ottawas,  with 
a few  Chippewas  (d-che-pe-wag),  and  a straggling  Kickapoo  or 
Miami ; and  a great  admixture  of  the  different  languages  (or  rather 
dialects,  for  they  are  radically  the  same,)  of  the  three  first  prevails 
there.  Among  them  are  many  who  have  borne  arms  against  the 
Americans ; and  some  who  doubtless  took  a part  in  the  massacre 
at  the  11  of  the  place  in  1812.  The  particulars  of  that  bloody 
affair  are  yet  mentioned  with  horror  by  the  old  settlers.  They  may 
be  briefly  summed  up  as  follows : — 

It  was  soon  after  the  infamous  surrender  of  General  Hull  at 
Detroit,  when,  in  pursuance  of  the  terms  entered  into  with  the 
enemy  by  that  officer,  who  was  commandant-in-chief  upon  the 
north-west  frontier,  Captain  Heald,  the  commandant  at  Chicago, 
preparedt  o surrender  his  post  to  the  British.  The  Pottawattamies, 
and  other  hostile  Indians  in  the  vicinity,  were  on  the  watch  for  the 
movement ; and  on  the  morning  when  the  garrison  evacuated  the 
place,  they  had  so  completely  succeeded  in  duping  Captain  Wells, 
the  credulous  and  unfortunate  Indian  agent,  that  the  fatal  march  of 


NOTES. 


277 


the  15th  October  1812,  was  precipitated  by  his  advice.  The 
Americans  were  about  seventy  in  number,  with  several  women 
and  children  ; and  they  were  escorted  from  the  shelter  of  the  fort 
by  a band  of  about  thirty  Miamies.  The  road  led  along  the  beach 
of  the  lake,  with  those  short  sand-hills,  spoken  of  in  a previous 
letter,  extending  along  the  route  between  the  lake  and  the  open 
prairie.  Behind  these  the  British  Indians  lay  concealed ; and  when 
the  Americans  had  proceeded  about  a mile  from  the  fort,  the  wily 
enemy  sprang  from  his  lair,  and  poured  down  a murderous  file 
upon  the  beach.  Captain  Heald  immediately  brought  his  men  to  a 
charge,  and  drove  the  Indians  from  the  nearest  sand-hill ; but  their 
numbers  were  so  great  that  they  formed  instantly  again  upon  his 
flank.  His  party  was  surrounded ; and  while  the  Miamies  in  a 
manner  withdrew  their  protection,  and  helped  to  swell  the  number 
of  his  opponents,  the  little  force  of  Captain  Heald  was  completely 
cut  off  from  the  women  and  children,  who  were  cowering  beneath 
the  baggage  on  the  lake-shore.  The  Americans  fought  with 
desperation  : but  such  a handful  of  men  was  soon  cut  to  pieces ; and 
scarcely  a man  survived  to  witness  the  atrocities  that  were  practised 
upon  the  helpless  creatures  upon  the  beach.  There  were  four 
officers  killed  upon  the  spot ; Captain  Heald  and  his  wife  were 
both  badly  wounded ; and  twelve  children*  were  butchered  on  the 
shore,  or  shared  the  fate  of  their  mothers,  who  ran  shrieking  over 
the  prairie.  The  unhappy  Indian  agent,  who  was  among  the  slain, 
is  said  to  have  had  his  breast  cut  open,  and  his  heart  roasted  and 
eaten  by  the  savage  foe. 

Note  M. — Page  205. 

“ The  Chicago  River,  which  is  about  ttvo  hundred  and  fifty  feet 
wide,  has  sufficient  depth  of  water  for  lake- vessels  to  where  it  forks 
in  the  centre  of  the  town.  The  southern  and  principal  branch 
takes  its  rise  about  six  miles  from  the  fort  in  a swamp,  which  com- 
municates also  with  Des  Plaines,  one  of  the  head  branches  of  the 
Illinois.  This  swamp,  which  is  designated  by  the  Canadian 
voyageurs  as  Le  Petit  Lac,  is  navigable  at  certain  seasons  of  the 
year : it  has  been  frequently  travelled  by  traders  in  their  pirogues ; 
and  a bateau  from  St.  Louis,  loaded  with  provisions  for  the  garrison 
at  Chicago,  has  through  this  medium  passed  from  the  Mississippi 

* Captain  Heald’s  Letter,  dated  Pittsburg,  Oct.  23,  1812. 

VOL.  I. — A a 


278 


APPENDIX. 


into  Lake  Michigan.  Major  Long  observes,  upon  passing  through 
this  marsh  in  a canoe,  ‘ We  were  delighted  at  beholding  for  the 
first  time  a feature  so  interesting  in  itself,  but  which  we  had  after- 
ward an  opportunity  of  observing  frequently  on  the  route ; viz.  the 
division  of  waters  starting  from  the  same  source  and  running  in 
two  different  directions,  so  as  to  become  the  feeders  of  streams  that 
discharge  themselves  into  the  ocean  at  immense  distances  apart.’ 
* * * * * When  we  consider  the  facts  above  stated,  we  are 

irresistibly  led  to  the  conclusion,  that  an  elevation  of  the  lakes  a few 
feet  (not  exceeding  ten  or  twelve)  above  their  present  level,  would 
cause  them  to  discharge  their  waters,  partly  at  least,  into  the  Gulf 
of  Mexico.  That  such  a discharge  has  at  one  time  existed,  every 
one  conversant  with  the  nature  of  the  country  must  admit ; and  it 
is  equally  apparent  that  an  expenditure  trifling  in  comparison  to  the 
importance  of  the  object  would  again  render  Lake  Michigan  a 
tributary  of  the  Mexican  Gulf.” 

Note  N. — "Page  225 . 

Mr.  Schoolcraft  says  that  no  female  captive  is  ever  saved  by  the 
Indians  from  base  motives,  or  need  fear  the  violation  of  her  honour: 
“ The  whole  history  of  their  wars  may  be  challenged  for  a solitary 
instance  of  the  violation  of  female  chastity.  When  they  resolve  to 
spare  life,  they  also  resolve  to  spare  that  reputation  without  which 
life  is  not  worth  possessing.  They  treat  them  with  kindness  and 
attention,  carrying  them  dry  across  rivers,  and  directing — what 
with  them  is  accounted  an  act  of  distinguished  attention — that 
their  hair  shall  be  combed  every  morning.  The  precise  reason  for 
this  trait  of  their  character  has  never  been  fully  explained.  Innate 
principles  of  virtue  can  liardly  be  supposed  to  be  sufficient  to  pro  • 
duce  so  universal  an  effect,  though  it  would  be  uncharitable  to 
deny  that  they  have  their  share.  It  is  asserted  that  the  Indians 
believe  that  the  taking  such  a dishonourable  advantage  of  their 
female  prisoners  would  have  the  effect  to  destroy  their  luck  in  hunt- 
ing. It  would  be  considered  as  a trait  of  weakness  and  effeminacy 
in  a warrior,  unworthy  of  his  fame  and  reputation  for  manly 
achievement.  It  would  excite  the  ridicule  of  his  companions,  and, 
as  they  believe,  be  displeasing  to  the  Great  Spirit.” — Travels  in 
the  Central  Portions  of  the  Mississippi  Valley , page  394. 


NOTES. 


279 


Note  O. — Page  233. 

“ Starved  Rock” — This  remarkable  isolated  hill,  termed  by  the 
French  voyageurs  Le  Rocher,  or  Rockfort,  as  Mr.  Schoolcraft  calls 
it,  is  described  by  that  accurate  traveller  as  an  elevated  cliff  on  the 
left  bank  of  the  Illinois,  consisting  of  parallel  layers  of  white  sand- 
stone. It  is  not  less  than  two  hundred  and  fifty  feet  high,  perpen- 
dicular on  three  sides,  and  washed  at  its  base  by  the  river.  On  the 
fourth  side  it  is  connected  with  the  adjacent  range  of  bluffs  by  a 
narrow  peninsular  ledge,  which  can  only  be  ascended  by  a pre- 
cipitous winding  path.  The  summit  of  the  rock  is  level,  and 
contains  about  three-fourths  of  an  acre.  It  is  covered  with  a soil 
of  several  feet  in  depth,  bearing  a growth  of  young  trees.  Strong 
and  almost  inaccessible  by  nature,  this  natural  battlement  was  the 
scene  of  a desperate  conflict  between  the  fierce  and  haughty  Pot- 
tawattamies  and  one  band  of  the  Illinois  Indians ; the  latter  fled 
to  this  place  for  refuge  from  the  fury  of  their  enemies.  The 
post  could  not  be  carried  by  assault,  and  tradition  says  that  the 
besiegers  finally  attempted,  after  many  repulses,  to  reduce  it  by 
starvation. 

This  siege,  as  is  marked  by  a popular  writer,  is  singularly  charac- 
teristic on  either  side  of  those  remarkable  traits  of  savage  character, 
undaunted  resolution,  and  insatiable  and  ever  vigilant  thirst  for 
vengeance.  Its  result  is  well  told  in  “ Tales  of  the  Border,”  the 
newly  published  work  of  Judge  Hall.  The  pangs  ef  hunger,  the 
tortures  of  thirst,  pressed  upon  the  besieged ; but  they  maintained 
their  post  with  invincible  courage,  determined  rather  to  die  of 
exhaustion  than  to  afford  their  enemies  the  triumph  of  killing  them 
in  battle  or  exposing  them  at  the  stake.  Every  stratagem  which 
they  attempted  was  discovered  and  defeated.  The  scorching  sun 
that  beat  upon  their  towering  hold  maddened  them  to  taste  the 
cool  stream  that  glided  beneath  it ; but  when  they  endeavoured  to 
procure  water  during  the  night  by  lowering  vessels  attached  to 
cords  of  bark  into  the  river,  the  vigilant  besiegers  detected  the 
design,  and  placed  a guard  in  canoes  to  prevent  its  execution. 
They  all  perished — one,  and  one  only  excepted.  The  last  surviving 
warriors  defended  the  entrance  so  well  that  the  enemy  could  neither 
enter  nor  discover  the  fatal  progress  of  the  work  of  death ; and 
when  at  last,  all  show  of  resistance  having  ceased,  and  all  signs  of 
life  disappeared,  the  victors  ventured  cautiously  to  approach,  they 


280 


APPENDIX. 


found  but  one  survivor — a squaw,  whom  they  adopted  into  their 
own  tribe,  and  who  was  yet  living  when  the  first  white  man 
penetrated  this  region.* 

Note  P. — Page  244. 

l:  The  usual  dress  of  the  men  (among  the  northern  tribes)  at  the 
present  day  consists  of  a figured  cotton  shirt ; a blanket,  or  a 
French  capote  of  blue  cloth ; a pair  of  blue,  green,  or  red  cloth 
metasses  or  leggins ; an  azeeaun  or  breech  cloth,  and  moccasins  of 
dressed  deer-skin.  The  metasses  are  generally  ornamented,  and  a 
garter  of  coloured  worsted  tied  around  the  knee.  The  front  fold  of 
the  azeeaun  is  also  ornamented  around  the  edges.  A necklace  of 
wampum,  or  a silver  crescent,  or  both,  ore  often  worn  together  with 
silver  arm-bands  and  wristbands.  The  latter  are  not  exclusively 
confined  to  chiefs,  so  far  as  we  have  observed,  But  their  use  depends 
rather  upon  the  ability  of  the  individual  to  purchase  them.  Ear- 
rings are  common  to  both  sexes.  A knife  is  commonly  worn  in  a 
scabbard  confined  under  the  string  or  narrow  belt  which  sustains 
both  the  azeeaun  and  the  metasses.  The  head  is  ornamented  with 
a band  of  skin  dressed  with  the  hair  or  pelt  on,  surmounted  with 
feathers.  In  this  respect  there  seems  to  be  less  uniformity  than  in 
any  other  part  of  their  costume.  Often  the  headpiece  is  wanting. 
Long  hair  is  prevalent : it  is  sometimes  braided  and  ornamented 
with  silver  brooches.  Paints  are  still  used  for  the  face,  both  for  the 
purposes  of  dress  and  mourning.  Each  Indian  youth,  from  the 
time  he  is  acknowledged  as  a hunter  capable  of  supporting  himself, 
ordinarily  carries  a pipe,  and  a skipetagun,  or  tobacco-pouch.  This 
pouch  is  commonly  the  entire  skin  of  an  otter,  lynx,  or  other 
small  animal,  dressed  with  the  pelt  on ; and  drawing  an  aperture 
upon  the  throat,  this  sack,  besides  the  usual  quantity  of 
tobacco  and  smoaking-weed  (kinnekinic),  commonly  contains  a 
fire-steel,  flint,  and  bit  of  spunk, . and  sometimes  a knife.  But 
this  appendage  is  not  to  be  confounded  with  the  sacred  metawiiaun, 
or  medicine-sack,  which  is  the  consecrated  repository,  not  only 
of  his  medicines,  but  also  of  his  personal  manitos  and  relics.” 
— Schoolcraft' s Travels  in  the  Central  Portions  of  the  Mississippi 
Valley. 


* Charlevoix,  Schoolcraft,  Half 


NOTES, 


281 


Note  Cl. — Page  247. 

Robertson,  Charlevoix,  and  other  European  writers,  mention  that 
the  American  Indians  have  naturally  no  beards.  Mr.  Schoolcraft, 
in  observing  that  a beard  is  less  common  to  our  aborigines  than  to 
the  natives  of  Europe  or  Asia,  ascribes  its  absence  chiefly  to  the 
fashion  of  plucking  it  out  in  early  life.  “ It  is  esteemed  necessary 
to  the  decency  of  appearance  among  the  young  and  middle-aged  to 
remove  the  beard ; and,  as  the  razor  is  unknown  to  them,  they 
employ  the  only  means  at  command  to  eradicate  it.  Hence  it  is 
more  common  to  see  beards  upon  old  men,  who  become  careless 
and  neglectful  of  personal  appearance.  Of  the  Indians  ojf  the 
Algonquin  stock,  the  Chip’pewas  are  perhaps  the  most  exempted 
from  beards,  the  Ottawas  less  so,  and  the  Pottawattamies  still 
less.  Among  the  two  last  tribes  there  is  a custom  sufficiently 
frequent,  though  not  universal,  of  letting  the  beard  grow  only 
upon  the  under  lip.  or  upon  the  chin,  from  which  it  depends  in 
a compact  lock,  or  a kind  of  bunch,” — Travels  in  the  Mississippi 
Valley. 

Note  R. — Page  263. 

The  Winnebagoes,  as  they  are  the  niost  savage  looking,  are 
among  the  haughtiest  of  the  tribesmen.  They  differ  in  many 
respects  from  the  neighbouring  clans ; and  Carver  says,  that  in  his 
time  there  wTas  a tradition  in  the  country  that  the  nation  sprung 
from  “ some  strolling  band  from  the  Mexican  countries.”  In  “ Long’s 
Expedition”  they  arc  mentioned  as  being  of  distinct  origin  from  the 
Algonquin  tribes,  and  their  language  is  said  to  present  greater  diffi- 
culties than  any  of  the  northern  dialects.  “ It  abounds,”  says  that 
work,  “ in  harsh  and  guttural  sounds,  and  in  the  letter  r,  which 
docs  not  appear  to  be  common  in  the  Algonquin  languages.  It  is 
difficult  to  obtain  correct  information  concerning  the  manners  and 
characters  of  the  Winnebagoes,  as* a strong  prejudice  appears  to 
prevail  against  them.  They  are  considered  unfriendly  to  white 
men,  and  this,  instead  of  being  viewed  in  the  light  of  a favourable 
trait  of  their  character,  as  indicative  of  a high  spirit  which  can  re- 
sent injustice  and  oppression,  and  which  will  not  crouch  before  the 
aggressor,  has  been  the  occasion  of  much  ill-will  towards  them.” — 
Long's  Expedition,  page  21G. 

The  custom  of  blacking  the  face  by  way  of  mourning,  as 
mentioned  in  the  text,  is  by  no  means  peculiar  to  the  Winne- 
bagoes ; — 


282 


NOTES, 


{‘  The  Indians  are  particular  in  their  demonstrations  of  grief  for 
departed  friends ; they  consist  in  darkening  their  faces  with  char- 
coal, fasting,  abstaining  from  the  use  of  vermillion  and  other  orna- 
ments in  dress,  &c. ; they  also  make  incisions  in  their  arms,  legs, 
and  other  parts  of  the  body.  These  are  not  made  for  the  purposes 
of  mortification,  or  to  create  a pain  which  shall,  by  dividing  their 
attention,  efface  the  recollection  of  their  loss ; but  entirely  from  a 
belief  that  their  grief  is  internal,  and  that  the  only  way  of  dispelling 
it  is  to  give  it  a vent  through  which  to  escape.-— Ibid,  page  226. 


END  OF  VOLUME  I* 


WINTER  IN  THE  WEST. 


VOL.  II. 


A 


WINTER  IN  THE  WEST 


BY  A NEW-YORKER, 


Where  can  I journey  to  your  secret  springs. 
Eternal  Nature  1 Onward  still  I press, 

Follow  thy  windings  still,  yet  sigh  for  more. 

Goethe. 


IN  TWO  VOLUMES. 

VOL.  II. 


SECOND  EDITION. 


NEW-YORK: 

PUBLISHED  BY  HARPER  & BROTHERS, 

NO.  82  CL  I F P - S T R E E T. 


1835. 


[Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1835,  by  Charles 
F.  Hoffman,  in  the  Office  of  the  Clerk  of  the  Southern  District 
of  New- York.] 

« 


william  h.  colyer,  Printer. 


CONTENTS 


OF 

THE  SECOND  VOLUME. 


LETTER  XXL 

Barrack  Theatre — Indian  Beauties — Hospitality — The  Garrison 
— Society  and  Amusements — Singular  Landscape — Ancient  Forti- 
fications— Grand  Prospect — Wolf  hunt — Indian  Gamblers — Indian 
Serenade Page  9 

4 • 

LETTER  XXII. 

Travelling  Party — Backwood  Beauties— An  Indian  Beauty- 
Travelling  Vehicles — Our  Coachman — A Breakdown — Settlers — 
Warfare  with  Indians — Anomaly  in  Morals — Indian-hating — Pio- 
neers— Wandering  Indians — Night  on  the  Prairie — A Jumper.  24 

LETTER  XXIIL 

A Pleasant  Retreat — Trenches — Solitary  Miner — Galena — Pub- 
lic Meeting — Whimsical  Conversation — Colonel  H. — The  Meeting 
— Incongruous  Apparel — Miners — Descend  a Mine — Interior  of 
the  Mine — Galena  Theatricals — Stage  Effects.  . . 39 

LETTER  XXIV. 

Leave  Galena — Mishap  on  the  Prairie— Fatal  Accidents — Sunny 
Landscape — Fertile  Soil — Proposed  Canal — State  of  Illinois.  . 51 

LETTER  XXV. 


Prairie  on  Fire — Colonels — Aspect  of  the  Country — Rich  Sa- 
vannas— Lower  Prairies — Population — Deserted  Village — The 
Missouri 58 


VI 


CONTENTS. 


LETTER  XXVI. 

St.  Louis — Ancient  Mounds — Population  of  St.  Louis — Scalp, 
ing  Amateurs — Savage  Deeds — Desperate  Situation — War-Party. 

Page  65 

LETTER  XXVII. 

Indian  Council — The  Kickapoos — Misjudging  Policy — Propo- 
sed Policy — Frenchmen  and  Indians — Indians  and  Traders — Indian 
Theism — Indian  Faith — Indian  Character.  ...  73 

LETTER  XXVIII. 

Jefferson  Barracks — Ancient  Hamlet — Remarkable  Cavern — 
Military  Discipline — Troopers — Dragoon  Horses — Military  Inci- 
dent— Deserter  Punished — Indian  Graves — Ill-fated  Expedition.  86 

LETTER  XXIX. 

Embarkation — The  Mississippi — Rock  Formations — Woodcut- 
ters— An  Affray — The  Ohio — Louisville — Fellow-passengers — A 
Frontier  Tradition— Trying  Situation.  89 

LETTER  XXX. 

Cincinnati — Society — Sportsmen  and  Litterateurs — Public  Build- 
ings— Influence  of  the  Drama — Slaughter-houses — Hog-killing — 
Kentuckians  and  New-Englanders 110 

LETTER  XXXI. 

A Boatman’s  Panegyric — Leave  Cincinnati — Road  Companions 
— Kentuckian  Civility — Slavery — Youthful  Mourner — Morning 
Scene — Lexington.  .......*  119 

LETTER  XXXII. 

An  Excursion — Farm  Houses — Hospitality — Herd  of  Elk — The 
Elk  and  Buffalo — Cattle — Capital  of  Kentucky — Beauchamp  and 
his  Wife. 129 

LETTER  XXXIII. 

Bryant’s  Station — Affair  with  the  Indians — Female  Heroism — 
Lovely  Scenery — Old-fashioned  Building — The  Alleghanies — Mi- 


CONTENTS. 


Vll 


neral  Springs — The  Red  River — Knobs  of  Kentucky — Town  of 
Irvine.  ......  Page  137 

LETTER  XXXIV. 

Hill  Scenery — Rockshoal  Mills — A Hill  Cabin — Night  Adven- 
ture  147 

LETTER  XXXV. 

Miserable  Shantee — A Dead  Settlement — Lonely  Mansion — A 
Young  Mountaineer — Mountain  Dwelling — Primitive  Family.  154 

LETTER  XXXVI. 

Manchester — Rip  Van  Winkle — Indolence — Conversation — Ne- 
gro Idiot — A Halt — A Storm.  . . . . 162 

LETTER  XXXVII. 

Leave  Manchester — Goose  Creek — Carrying  a Mountain — 
Banks  of  the  Cumberland— Forest  Scenery — Farewell  to  Kentucky 
— Mountain  Inn.  ........  169 

LETTER  XXXVIII. 

Neutral  Ground — Rocky  Dens — A Cavern  Explored — Gallery 
of  Pillars — Curious  Grotto — The  Music-room.  . . . 176 

LETTER  XXXIX, 

County  Town — Drowsy  Region — An  Outer y — A Real  Scream* 
er — Village  Uproar — Conversation — Contentment.  . : 183 

LETTER  XL. 

Limestone  Cavern — Mountain  Fastnesses — Advance  of  Civiliza- 
tion— Frontier  Strife — Indian  Remains — -Gigantic  Remains,  Human 
— Love  of  the  Marvellous. 189 

LETTER  XLI. 

Western  Virginia — Love  of  Variety — Disconsolate  Female — 
Tavern  Salutation— Old  Tom — A Yankee  Pedler — Sectional  Pre- 
judices— Sobriquets. 196 


Vlll 


CONTENTS. 


LETTER  XLII. 

Beautiful  Rivers — Fertile  Country — Natural  Tunnel — Cavern- 
ous Passage — Mural  Precipice — Fearful  Chasm — Thrilling  Inci- 
dent— A Bold  Cragsman — Hairbreadth  Escape — Another  Escape. 

Page  205 

LETTER  XLIII. 

Saltpetre  Cave — Subterranean  Incident— Sickness — Tragical 
Story 213 

LETTER  XLIY. 

A Virgiana  Julep — Picturesque  descent  to  the  Kenawha — Indian 
Burial-ground — The  Last  Errand  of  the  Bald  Eagle.  , 220 

LETTER  XLV. 

The  Angel’s  Rest— Gigantic  Race — Hardships — Mountain  Pool 
— Twin-born  Rills 231 


LETTER  XLVI. 

Interesting  Remains— A Cairn — Sulphur  Springs — Strange  Sto- 
ries— The  Haunted  Sink — Cabins — Agreeable  Intimacies — Inde- 
pendence— Manners. 237 

LETTER  XL VII. 

Mountain  Ridges — Hot  Springs — Warm  Springs — Blowing 
Cave — Romantic  District — The  Panther  Gap — A Farm  House. 

245 


LETTER  XLVIII. 

Beautiful  Valley — Sunday  Parties — Collegiate  Institution — The 
Natural  Bridge — University  of  Virginia — Adieu  to  the  West — 
Retrospection — Pleasure  of  Wandering— Conclusion.  . 251 


Appendix 


261 


A 


WINTER  IN  THE  WEST. 


LETTER  XXI. 

Barrack  Theatre — Indian  Beauties — Hospitality — The  Garrison 
— Society  and  Amusements — Singular  Landscape — Ancient  Forti- 
fications— Grand  Prospect — Wolf-hunt — Indian  Gamblers — Indian 
Serenade. 

Prairie  du  Chien,  Upper  Miss.,  Feb.  12,  1834. 

The  shadows  of  its  western  bluffs  had  deepened 
far  over  the  broad  surface  of  the  ice-bound  Mis* 
sissippi,  though  a flood  of  yellow  light  still  bathed 
the  gray  walls  of  Fort  Crawford,  as  its  extensive 
barracks  lay  in  the  form  of  an  isolated  square  on 
the  level  meadow  beneath  us ; while,  farther  to  the 
north,  a number  of  dingy  wooden  buildings,  which 
looked  like  a fishing  hamlet,*  on  the  immediate 
bank  of  the  river,  were  momentarily  growing  more 
indistinct  in  the  advancing  twilight  as  we  approached 
their  purlieus,  and  drove  up  to  a cabaret  about  half 
a mile  from  the  garrison. 

It  was  within  pistol-shot  of  the  river;  a com- 
* See  note  A. 

VOL.  II. — B 


10 


A PLAY-BILL. 


fortable  frame  building,  with  a stockade  fence 
around  it,  made  with  pickets,  some  ten  or  fifteen 
feet  high ; a yoyageur  or  two,  with  a few  half-bred- 
looking  residents,  were  loitering  about  the  door; 
and  a tall  Menomone  Indian,  with  a tuft  of  drooping 
feathers  on  his  crown,  was  standing  with  folded 
arms  apart  from  the  rest. 

A portly  soldier-like  German,  who  had  formerly 
been  a non-commissioned  officer  in  the  infantry, 
proved  to  be  the  landlord,  and  bowed  me,  like  a 
master  of  his  business,  into  a room  heated  to  suffo- 
cation by  a large  Canadian  stove,  placing  at  the 
same  time  a strip  of  newly  written  paper  in  my 
hands.  Imagine  my  surprise  when  I discovered  it 
to  be  a play-bill ! “ The  public ” were  respectfully 
informed,  that  the  sterling  English  comedy  of 
“Who  Wants  a Guinea  ?”  and  Fielding’s  afterpiece 
of  “ Don  Quixote  in  England,”  with  songs,  recita- 
tions, &c.  would  be  presented  that  evening,  by  the 
soldiers  of  the  First  Regiment  at  Fort  Crawford. 
Nothing  could  be  more  apropos . I had  just  ascer- 
tained that  on  account  of  the  present  deep  snows, 
with  the  prospect  of  an  early  thaw,  it  would  be  al- 
most impossible  to  get  up  to  the  Falls  of  St.  An- 
thony, whither  my  ambition  led  me,  at  this  season ; 
and  having  now  no  further  plans  to  arrange  during 
the  evening,  and  being  wholly  unprovided  with  let- 
ters to  the  officers  of  the  garrison,  I was  really  re- 
joiced at  such  an  opportunity  of  entering  its  wralls 
incognito. 

The  sleigh  in  which  I had  come  carried  me  in  a 
few  minutes  within  the  sally-port,  and  handing  the 


BARRACK  THEATRE. 


11 


ticket  with  which  mine  host  had  provided  me  to  a 
soldier  who  acted  as  door-keeper,  I entered  a large 
barrack-room,  fitted  up  very  neatly  as  a theatre  by 
the  soldiers  themselves ; the  scenery  quite  cleverly 
done,  being  all  painted  by  them,  and  the  lights,  in- 
geniously placed  in  bayonets,  prettily  arranged — a 
contrivance  suggested  by  their  own  taste.  The 
seats,  rising  like  the  pit  of  a theatre,  were  so  ad- 
justed as  to  separate  the  audience  into  three  divi- 
sions : the  officers  with  their  families  furnished  one, 
the  soldiers,  another,  and  “ gumboes,”  Indians,  and 
a negro  servant  or  two  made  up  the  third.  A su- 
perb looking  squaw  of  the  Sauk  and  Fox*  tribe  at- 
tracted my  attention  as  I entered  the  room,  and 
prevented  me  from  advancing  beyond  the  worship- 
ful part  of  the  assemblage  last  mentioned,  as  she 
sat  between  two  pretty  but  plainly  dressed  Meno- 
monef  girls,  in  a more  rich  and  beautiful  costume 
than  I ever  saw  at  a fancy  ball.  The  curtain  rose 

* “ The  united  bands  of  the  Saukies  and  Ottigaumies,  the 
French  nicknamed,  according  to  their  wonted  custom,  Des  Saco 
and  Des  Renards — the  Sacks  and  the  Foxes.” — Carver. 

t The  Me-no-mo-ne,  or  wild-rice-eaters,  is  a broken  band  that 
served  with  effect  against  the  Sauks  and  Foxes  in  the  Indian  diffi- 
culties of  1832.  They  are  a finely  shaped  people,  of  a much  lighter 
complexion  than  the  other  north-western  tribes,  and  exhibit  a great 
deal  of  taste  in  preparing,  and  neatness  in  wearing,  the  various  arti- 
cles of  Indian  dress— ornamented  belts,  gaiters,  sheaths  for  knives, 
moccasins,  &c.  In  Long’s  Expedition  they  are  mentioned  as  “ The 
White  Indian!,”  and  are  supposed  not  to  belong  to  the  Algonquin 
stock.  It  is  said  that  few  white  men  have  ever  been  able  to  learn 
their  language ; and  in  their  intercourse  they  use  the  melange  of  the 
Chippewa,  Ottawa,  and  Pottawattamie  dialects,  which  is  the  com- 
mon medium  of  communication  on  the  frontier. — See  Long’s  Expe- 
dition, Charlevoix,  fyc. 


12 


HOSPITALITY, 


while  I was  studying  her  noble  features  and  taste- 
ful finery,  and  contrasting  the  striking  and  some- 
what voluptuous  character  of  both  with  the  simple 
attire  and  less  mature  charms  of  the  two  nut-brown 
beauties  beside  her.  Every  eye  was  then  directed 
to  the  stage,  and  I remained  standing  against  the 
door-post  till  the  act  was  concluded : and  then,  just 
as  I was  wishing  for  some  one  to  whom  to  express 
my  surprise  at  the  degree  of  skill  and  judgment 
with  which  the  soldiers  played,  considering  they 
were  but  amateurs,  an  officer  made  his  way  up  to 
me,  and  very  politely  insisted  upon  my  taking  his 
seat  in  the  more  favoured  part  of  the  house.  The 
ordinary  interchange  of  common-places  between 
gentlemen  who  are  strangers  to  each  other  ensued, 
and  then,  without  his  knowing  my  name  or  the 
slightest  circumstance  in  relation  to  me,  an  invita- 
tion to  take  up  my  quarters  in  the  garrison  followed. 
I declined  the  invitation,  but  we  exchanged  cards ; 
and  I had  hardly  got  through  breakfast  in  the 
morning,  when  my  new  acquaintance,  accompanied 
by  Colonel  T.  the  commandant,  and  a young  subal- 
tern, called  to  repeat  the  invitation  of  the  evening- 
before  ; bringing  a soldier  with  a sled  to  transport 
my  baggage,  and  a led  horse  to  carry  myself  over 
to  the  garrison.  It  would  have  been  absurd  to 
meet  such  cordial  proffers  of  hospitality  with  fur- 
ther ceremony ; and  an  hour  after  found  me  with  a 
handsomely  furnished  room  of  my  own,  a fine  sad- 
dle-horse placed  at  my  disposal,  and  a servant  at 
my  call,  sitting  down  to  the  mess  with  as  agreeable 
a set  of  young  fellows  as  I ever  met  with.  I have 


THE  GARRISON. 


13 


been  particular  in  describing  my  initiation  into  this 
agreeable  and  accomplished  circle,  merely  to  give 
you  some  idea  of  the  gentleman-like  courtesy  and  ' 
frank  hospitality  which  distinguish  the  officers  of 
the  army,  wherever  I have  been  fortunate  enough 
to  meet  with  them. 

I have  now  been  here  nearly  two  weeks.  The 
weather  has  been  mild  and  beautiful,  and  my  time, 
in  such  congenial  society,  passes  delightfully ; so 
much  so,  indeed,  that  when  I wake  each  morn  at 
reveille , it  is  with  a kind  of  sad  feeling  I remember, 
that  the  twenty-four  hours  just  past  bring  me  nearer 
to  the,  time  when  I must  start  again  on  my  solitary 
tour,  through  regions  where  fortune  can  hardly 
throw  me  a second  time  among  such  companions. 

The  garrison  here  consists  of  five  companies  of 
infantry,  under  the  command  of  a lieutenant  colo- 
nel. They  are  well  quartered  in  very  handsome 
barracks,  built  bv  the  soldiers  themselves  of  cut 
stone  ; the  buildings  being  arranged  in  the  form  of 
a square,  and  enclosing  an  area  large  enough  for  a 
battalion  to  drill  in.  The  parade  is  nicely  gravel- 
led, and  a colonnade,  'which  extends  round  three 
sides  of  the  parade,  gives*  a cheerful  aspect  to  the 
whole.  The  hospital  stands  by  itself  on  a slight 
knoll  about  a hundred  yards  from  the  barracks,  and 
both  are  pleasantly  situated  near  the  banks  of  the 
Mississippi.  The  place,  as  it  now  stands,  would 
be  easily  tenable  against  hordes  of  Indians,  should 
they  be  mad  enough  to  assail  it.  There  is  not  a 
tree  around  it,  and  it  is  furnished  with  a park  of 
artillery,  which,  from  an  open  interval  left  at  each 

B 2 


14 


SOCIETY  AND  AMUSEMENTS. 


angle  of  the  parallelogram,  could  sweep  the  whole 
prairie.  But  these  openings,  which  are  flanked  by 
no  works  whatsoever,  by  breaking  the  unity  of  the 
square,  destroy  even  the  appearance  of  a fortifica- 
tion ; and  the  place,  if  not  carried  by  an  assault 
from  a regular  force,  would  easily  fall  before  its 
formal  approaches.  Such  an  attack  was  indeed 
never  contemplated  when  Fort  Crawford — which 
was  only  intended  to  overawe  the  Indians — was 
erected ; but  even  in  a collection  of  barracks,  one 
likes  to  see  them  so  disposed  as  to  preserve  a mili- 
tary air.  There  is  a small  but  well  chosen  library 
belonging  to  the  post,  and  several  of  the  companies 
have  quite  good  miscellaneous  libraries  of  their 
owrn, — a fact  exceedingly  creditable  to  the  private 
soldiers.  The  amusements  of  the  place,  so  far  as 
society  is  concerned,  are  of  course  limited.  The 
officers’  families  do  indeed  make  a small  circle  ; 
and  for  those  who  like  to  study  life  in  all  its  phases, 
there  is  the  little  village  of  Prairie  du  Chien  about 
half  a mile  from  the  garrison,  with  its  antique 
looking  timber-built  houses,  containing  an  amphibi- 
ous population  of  voyageurs  and  hunters,  half 
French  and  half  Indian.  Here  the  officers  some- 
times amuse  themselves  in  getting  up  what  is  called 
a gumbo  ball,  which,  from  the  descriptions  I have 
had  of  them,  must  be  a kind  of  harlequinade  I 
should  very  much  like  to  see.  Sporting,  however, 
— when  the  resources  of  the  library  are  exhausted, 
or  a pipe  of  kinnekinic  ceases  to  charm, — is  the 
great  source  of  amusement  at  Prairie  du  Chien. 
The  grouse  now  keep  in  large  packs  near  the  gar- 


SINGULAR  LANDSCAPE. 


15 


rison ; snipe,  too,  I am  told,  are  abundant  when  in 
season,  and  of  ducks  I am  assured  it  is  easy  to  kill 
a canoe-load,  when  they  begin  to  fly  along  the 
Mississippi.  Elk,  bear,  and  wolves  are  the  game  of 
those  who  are’ more  ambitious  in  their  sport,  and 
choose  to  go  farther  to  seek  it.  Th6  meat  of  the 
first  I have  not  yet  tasted,  but  I made  a capital 
dinner  yesternoon  from  a sirloin  of  the  second  at 
the  commandant’s  quarters.  Bruin  was  served  up 
in  handsome  style,  and  some  old  wine  from  Colo- 
nel T.’s  hospitable  cellar  relished  in  this  latitude. 

The  scenery  round  Prairie  du  Chien  would 
please  you  much.  The  snow  has  now  entirely  left 
the  bosom  of  the  prairie,  though  it  still  hangs  like 
flakes  of  morning  mist  round  the  rocky  brows  of  the 
adjacent  bluffs.  The  singular  landscape  created 
by  these  bold  heights  has  been  called  monotonous  ; 
but  I do  not  find  it  so.  Not  a day,  not  an  hour 
passes,  but  they  present  some  new  appearance. 
Each  shifting  cloud  brings  out  some  new  angle  of 
the  gigantic  blocks  ; and,  whether  the  rosy  tints  of 
dawn  warm  their  steep  sullen  brows,  or  the  glare 
of  noon  settles  on  their  round  summits,  and  tries  to 
pierce  the  deep  ravines  which  block  them  out  from 
each  other,  or  sunset,  with  its  mellow  hues,  lingers 
among  the  long  grass  which  paints  their  “ umbered 
face,”  where  they  first  swell  from  the  plain, — to  me 
they  are  always  lovely,  grand,  and  peculiar.  I as- 
cended one  of  them,  accompanied  by  an  officer  on 
horseback,  the  other  day  by  winding  up  a ravine  in 
the  rear,  which  brought  us  on  a round,  bold,  grassy 
height,  about  one  hundred  feet  above  the  prairie  ; to 


16 


ANCIENT  FORTIFICATIONS. 


which  the  bluff  descended  by  two  sheer  precipices 
of  rock,  of  about  a hundred  feet  each,  with  alternate 
slopes  of  soil,  covered  with  long  yellow  grass — the 
whole  having  the  appearance  of  some  vast  fortress 
— an  enormous  bastion  thrown  up  in  huge  layers  of 
earth  and  stone.  On  the  very  summit  was  one 
of  those  ancient  fortifications,  the  mysterious  me- 
mentoes of  an  unknown  race,  whose  gigantic  and 
enduring  works  are  scattered  over  thousands  of 
leagues  of  this  continent,  to  puzzle  the  curious  and 
set  at  nought  the  surmises  of  the  antiquary.*  I 
trod  each  winding  of  the  turf-covered  rampart,  and 
counted  what  appeared  to  be  the  embrasures  for 
artillery,  as  my  military  friend  commented  upon  the 
position,  and  described  a number  of  similar  remains 
which  he  had  examined  in  different  parts  of  the 
Western  country  : while  we  alike  dissented  from 
the  unsatisfactory  conclusions  of  those  closet 
theorists  who  would  attribute  the  fortified  appear- 
ances of  this  tall  elevation, — the  enormous  mounds 
in  the  vicinity  of  St.  Louis,— the  sunken  remains 
on  the  alluvial  bottoms  of  Illinois, — the  perfect 
forms  which  give  its  name  to  Circleville  in  Ohio, 
and  the  deep  intrenchments  which  channel  the 
rocky  hills  of  eastern  Kentucky,  alike  to  the  action 
of  water:  suppositions  upon  a par  for  ingenuity 
with  those  which  account  for  the  existence  of  the 
prairies  by  the  sudden  withdrawal  of  the  same 
element  from  what  was  formerly  the  beds  of  a chain 
of  vast  inland  lakes.  The  same  prairies,  in  every 
instance  that  I have  yet  seen,  except  the  single  one 

* See  note  B. 


GRAND  PROSPECT. 


17 


of  Prairie  du  Chien,  being  high  table-land,  some 
sixty  or  a hundred  feet  above  the  streams  and 
groves  which  occasionally  chequer  them.  I forget 
whether  I have  before  mentioned  that  the  Indian 
name  for  prairie  (scutay),  which  means  also  Jire, 
would  account  for  their  origin  with  any  one  who 
had  had  an  opportunity  of  observing  how  the  action 
of  that  element  extends  these  grassy  domains  every 
season  in  one  direction,  while  it  leaves  them  to 
shoot  up  into  a luxuriant  growth  of  young  forest  in 
another. 

But  turn  with  me  to  yonder  view  of  the  Missis- 
sippi, where  a hundred  wooded  islets  of  every  pos- 
sible form  repose  upon  the  glistening  ice  that  silvers 
its  broad  bosom.  How  grandly  does  the  bold  pro- 
montory of  “ Pike’s  Hill,”  interlocked  as  it  seems 
with  the  gray  crags  of  the  Wisconsan,  shut  in  the 
' lordly  stream  on  the  south ; and  there,  where  the 
blue  water  has  broken  its  white  fetters,  and  those 
diminutive  figures  are  leaping  from  one  ice-cake  to 
another,  as  they  sparkle  in  the  sun  along  the  smooth 
eastern  shore,  how  beautifully  the  tall  brown  grass 
bends  over  the  pebbly  margin ! You  may  look  now, 
though  it  is  two  miles  off  into  the  very  centre  of 
Fort  Crawford,  where  the  gleam  of  arms  flashing 
over  the  sanded  parade  tells  of  troops  in  motion, 
though  the  sound  of  their  drums  can  hardly  reach 
your  ears.  What  a point  would  this  be  from  which 
to  view  the  meeting  of  hostile  forces  ! The  armies 
of  Europe  might  manoeuvre  on  the  smooth  prairie 
below,  and  not  a guide  could  indicate  a position 


18 


DOGS. 


without  its  being  manifest  to  your  eye  long  before 
a battalion  could  attain  it. 

There  are  a great  many  high-bred  dogs  kept  at 
this  place, — shooting  and  hunting  of  all  kinds,  as  I 
have  mentioned,  forming  the  chief  amusements  of 
the  officers  of  the  post.  Indeed,  if  an  enumeration 
of  the  setters,  grayhounds,  and  Newfoundlands, 
which  are  severally  kept  for  grouse,  wolves,  and 
ducks,  were  made,  without  counting  the  curs  and 
Indian  dogs  kept  by  the  gumboes  and  Indians 
around,  the  place,  as  I have  heard  it  observed,  might 
rather  be  called  Prairie  des  Chiens,  than  left,  as  at 
present,  in  the  singular  number.  A very  success- 
ful experiment  has  been  made  here  in  crossing  the 
grayhound  and  Newfoundland ; the  offspring,  I am 
told,  being  highly  sagacious,  and  a match  for  a full- 
grown  bear.  If  the  race  be  continued,  they  ought 
to  be  dubbed  elkhounds,  from  their  adaptability  to 
the  pursuit  of  that  fine  game,  which  abounds  over 
the  river. 

I was  on  a wolf-hunt  by  moonlight  several  hours 
before  dawn  a few  mornings  since  ; and  though  we 
were  not  fortunate  enough  to  start  any  game,  I,  for 
my  own  part,  had  a very  good  chase.  Among  the 
other  dogs  of  the  pack  was  a grayhound  of  the  wolf 
species ; a breed  which,  according  to  sir  Walter 
Scott,  is  extremely  rare  in  the  British  dominions;  I 
had  no  idea  therefore  to  meet  with  one  of  the  blood 
on  our  continent.  This  long-haired  rascal  I mis- 
took, by  the  doubtful  light  of  the  moon,  for  a real 
wolf;  and  my  horse,  an  Indian  pony,  the  hero  of  a 


PRIMITIVE  ABODE. 


19 


hundred  wolf-hunts — (if  I am  not  mistaken,  he  has 
been  honourably  mentioned  in  the  Sporting  Ma- 
gazine,)— seemed  to  share  the  blunder.  I came 
upon  the  dog  suddenly  in  some  long  grass,  and 
spurring  upon  him,  he  made  at  once  for  the  bluff  on 
the  other  side  of  the  plain,  thinking,  doubtless,  from 
the  eager  bounds  of  my  horse  that  there  was  game 
in  view.  Convinced  of  my  good  fortune,  from  the 
course  he  took,  I shouted  to  my  companions,  while 
the  rest  of  the  pack  brdke  out  into  full  cry,  and  away 
we  went  together.  We  ran  more  than  a mile  be- 
fore the  experienced  nag  I rode  seemed  to  disco- 
ver the  blunder,  and  checked  his  gait.  The  officers, 
after  enjoying  a tolerable  laugh  at  my  expense,  re- 
lieved my  chagrin  by  mentioning  that  the  same  dog 
had  several  times  narrowly  escaped  being  shot  by 
some  of  the  oldest  hunters  of  the  country,  who,  in 
broad  day,  had,  as  they  expressed  it,  “ mistrusted 
him  for  some  wild  varmint.” 

I have  amused  myself  somewhat  here  in  studying 
the  Indian  languages,  though  I cannot  say  with 
much  industry;  the  amount  of  my  exertions  consist- 
ing in  learning  some  eight  or  ten  phrases  in  the 
morning,  and  then  strolling  off  to  repeat  them  in  the 
afternoon  at  the  straggling  lodges  which  may  be 
found  within  a mile  of  the  garrison.  To  one  of 
these,  where  an  old  Menomone  squaw  was  making 
a pair  of  embroidered  moccasins  for  me,  I went  last 
night  several  hours  after  nightfall.  The  wigwam 
was  formed  of  mats  of  woven  rushes,  subtended 
around  a frame-work  of  osiers,  in  the  form  of  a 
hemisphere,  with  an  opening  at  the  top,  to  let  out 


20 


A SQUAW. 


the  smoke.  Approaching  this  primitive  abode,  I 
heard  the  shrill  voice  of  the  hag  within  in  what 
sounded  like  high  altercation  with  some  one  who 
answered  in  a different  language  from  herself;  and, 
raising  the  dirty  blanket  which  formed  a door,  while 
I crawled  on  all-fours  within  the  low  threshold,  I 
found  that  the  lady  of  the  castle  was  only  gambling 
amicably  with  an  old  Winnebago  Indian,  who  sat 
cross-legged  on  a mat  opposite  to  her.  A finger- 
ring belonging  to  the  squaw  lay  upon  the  mat  be- 
tween them,  and  they  were  trying  which  of  the 
two  could  throw  the  scalping-knife  of  the  Indian 
most  often  within  the  golden  circle ; a score  being 
in  the  mean  time  kept  by  each  on  the  edge  of  the 
mat,  where  sundry  marks,  made  with  a dead  coal, 
supplied  the  place  of  the  ordinary  pearl-counters 
used  by  card-players.  The  squaw  briefly  answer- 
ed my  inquiries  about  the  moccasins,  while  I raked 
the  embers  of  her  fire  together  and  dried  my  boots 
by  its  cheerful  blaze ; and  then,  while  she  tossed 
the  long  elf-locks  from  her  high  cheek-bones, 
and  the  upper  part  of  her  loosely-arrayed  person 
swept  the  ground  while  bending  low  to  view  the 
mark  of  the  knife  which  gleamed  aloft  in  her  shri- 
velled hand,  I glanced  from  her  weird  features  and 
squat-form  to  the  calm  but  piercing  ken  and  still 
erect  figure  of  her  savage  companion ; and  raising 
the  blanket,  left  them  once  more  alone  together. 

Let  me  conclude  this  letter  by  furnishing  you 
with  an  Indian  serenade,  which  you  are  at  liberty 
to  consider  genuine  or  not : it  is  written  in  a sort 
of  Lingua-Franca,  or  mongrel  tongue,  much  used 


INDIAN  SERENADE. 


21 


on  the  frontier,  made  up  of  words  taken  alike  from 
the  Ottawa  and  Ojibboai  or  Chippewa*  and  possi- 
bly other  languages. 

* The  Chippewa  tongue,  as  is  elsewhere  remarked,  is  the  common 
medium  of  communication  between  the  whites  and  Indians  on  this 
part  of  our  extensive  frontier.  The  Chippewa,  or  Ojibboai,  (or 
Ojibbeway , as  written  by  Mr.  Schoolcraft  and  Dr.  James  of  the 
army,  to  whom,  with  the  venerable  Mr.  Duponceau,  the  world  is  so 
much  indebted  for  the  light  which  their  researches  have  thrown 
upon  Indian  customs  and  language,)  is  generally  considered  the 
court  language  of  our  north-western  tribes.  The  Ottawa,  Patto- 
wattamie,  &c.,  being  apparently  only  dialects  of  the  same,  and  the 
Ojibboai  being  readily  acquired  by  all  the  neighbouring  tribes. 

With  regard  to  the  verses  here  given,  the  original  copy,  furnished 
to  the  writer  by  a young  officer,  having  been  mislaid,  he  has  found 
it  impossible  to  supply  the  loss  in  time  to  correct  the  proof-sheet 
without  seriously  retarding  the  progress  of  the  work  through  the 
press.  The  reader  who  is  curious  in  such  matters,  is  referred  to 
Schoolcraft’s  Travels  for  some  interesting  observations,  accompanied 
by  authentic  translations,  attesting  the  existence  of  imaginative 
tales  and  oral  poetry  among  our  native  tribes.  In  Mackenzie’s 
Tour  to  the  Lakes,  there  is  also  a song  given,  with  the  music  of  an 
original  air  annexed. 

The  collection  of  sentences,  which  is  rather  offered  as  a speci- 
men of  Indian  phraseology  than  as  a complete  and  authentic 
production  of  the  aboriginal  muse,  is  meant  to  be  pronounced  ex- 
actly as  the  words  are  writtten.  The  following,  in  which  the 
French  pronunciation  is  given  to  the  letters,  will  be  found,  perhaps, 
more  satisfactory.  It  is  the  Lord’s  Prayer,  in  Chippewa  ; — 

“ Cau-ci-nane  au-wei-nene  iche-pi-mine-ga  ein-date,  ma-nau-ti 
echi-wa-heute  wa-i-chi-wau-bi-tau-i-eune.  Ca-ta-pa-piche  gineda- 
gime,  ma-nau-bige  na-ga-eune  na-ga-meuke  sa-ni-goque;  mi-gi- 
chi-nan-ga  ca-mi-gi-ane  nane-goume  gui-gi-keute,  mi-gi-che-nan-ga 
au-mei-zi-na-wau-mau-nan-ga  eigi-cau-ti-bama-tine-que,  cai-gau 
i-gi-wi-gise  gi-can-gaine  mia  mi-a-na-teuke  keun-ni-wa-nau  mi-che- 
nan-ga  mi-a-na-touke,  na-ga-ni-zitetei-be-ni-meute,  gai-a-meiche- 
ca-i-zite  ca-gui-nique.” 

The  following  literal  translation  of  the  above  is  given  in  the  Ap- 


VOL.  II. — C 


22 


INDIAN  SERENADE. 


From  the  manner  in  which  it  was  taken  down, 
I do  not  hold  myself  answerable  for  its  correctness  ; 
but,  uncouth  and  jaw-breaking  as  the  words  may 
look  upon  paper,  they  really  sound  musical  from 
the  silver  tongue  of  an  Indian  girl. 

INDIAN  SERENADE. 

- " • . t A?' ' '■  ' 4 *■  • W 

Onaiweh!  Paikesai  meteequen,  quonadhj  cuskonosd  musco- 
taiwenin. 

Awake ! flower  of  the  forest ; beautiful  bird  of  the  prairie. 

Onaiweh  ! Onaiweh ! kepahshoshe  moscaishecon. 

Awake ! awake  ! thou  with  the  eyes  of  the  fawn. 

Taupai  kaisainopemayan,  mannenatuk  azhenah  pahkesaikew 
taupai  cotainen  ai  won. 

When  you  look  at  me,  I am  happy ; like  the  lowers  when  they 
feel  the  dew. 

Nodin  keokeneta  waikon  azhenah  menoqut  paike  saiw  en  oskenega 
kezhecut — waikon  azhenah  menoquten  pahwepemukkazho  nabgoos- 
ing. 

The  breath  of  thy  mouth  is  as  sweet  as  the  fragrance  of  flowers  in 
the  morning ; sweet  as  their  fragrance  at  evening  in  the  moon  of 
the  fading  leaf. 

Nekaugewahnahtahsee  neshainonen  ahchewaukee,  azhenah  mok- 
keetchewun  kezhis  ahchew  au  wahseejmseekazho! 

Does  not  the  bleed  of  my  veins  spring  towards  thee  like  the  bub- 
bling springs  to  the  sun  in  the  moon  of  the  bright  nights  ? (April.) 

Nemeetah  nuggahmo  taupai  keeshiah  payshoo  azhenah  oskenoga 
metecquen  weneemenin  nodin  otaihaiminkazho. 

My  heart  sings  to  thee  when  thou  art  near ; like  the  dancing 
branches  to  the  wind  in  the  moon  of  strawberries.  (June.) 


pendix  of  “ Tanner’s  Narrative,”  by  the  accomplished  editor  of  that 
work : — 

“ Our  Father  who  above  livest,  what  you  wish  to  be  done,  let  it 
he  done  ; let  us  not  play  w ith  thy  name ; let  thy  great  power  come 
Give  us  our  food  this  day — give  us  our  debts  as  we  give  our  debtors 
— do  not  lead  us  into  bad  things — keep  us  from  bad  things — powrer 
belongs  to  thee  and  strength — For  ever.” 


INDIAN  SERENADE. 


23 


Taupai  niscaudizze  saugittewun,  nemeetah  muccuddauwah  azhe- 
nah  wahbiskah  sebewun  taupai  nahcut  endosh  wainje  ishpeming. 

When  thou  art  not  pleased,  my  beloved,  my  heart  is  darkened 
like  the  shining  river  when  shadows  fall  from  the  clouds  above. 

Ketiyahnim  geozhetone  menoanedum,  nemeetah  sunnuggezewin 
azhenah  kezhis  geozhetone  azhenah  azauwahshoneah  tegowugainse 
kissenah  nodin  wainjenetahhahwajink. 

Thy  smiles  cause  my  troubled  heart  to  be  brightened  as  the  sun 
makes  to  look  like  gold  the  ripples  which  the  cold  wind  has  created. 

Neahwena,  wahhundummo,  keshainon  nemeetah  pokkaumenin. 

Myself!  Behold  me ! blood  of  my  beating  heart. 

Ah  ke  tahyahnin,  nepeesh  tahyahnim,  ishpeming  tahyahnirn — 
kooshah  nenah — Nenah  kaukekendun  mekunnuh  tahyahnah  moke- 
shee  taupai  kaukeeshiah — Onaiweh!  Onaiweh!  nenah  saugittewun ! 

The  earth  smiies — the  waters  smile— the  heavens  smile,  but  I — I 
lose  the  way  of  smiling  when  thou  art  not  near — awake  ! awake  ! 
my  beloved ! 

This  literal  prose  translation  seems  very  bald, 
but  I don’t  know  that  I have  bettered  it  in  the  fol- 
lowing versification. 

Fairest  of  hewers,  by  forest  or  lake, 

Listen,  my  fawn-eyed  one — wake,  oh  ! awake. 

Pride  of  the  prairies,  one  look  from  thy  bower 
Will  gladden  my  spirit,  like  dew-drop  the  flower. 

Thy  glances  to  music  my  soul  can  attune, 

As  sweet  as  the  murmur  of  young  leaves  in  June  ; 

Then  breathe  but  a whisper,  from  lips  that  disclose 
A balm  like  the  morning,  or  autumn’s  last  rose. 

My  pulses  leap  toward  thee,  like  fountains  when  first 
Through  their  ice-chains  in  April  toward  Heaven  they  burst. 
Then,  fairest  of  flowers,  by  forest  or  lake, 

Listen,  my  fawn-eyed  one — wake,  oh  ! awake. 

Like  this  star-paven  water  when  clouds  o’er  it  lower, 

If  thou  frownest,  beloved,  is  my  soul  in  that  hour ; 

But  when  Heaven  and  Thou,  love  ! your  smiles  will  unfold, 

If  their  current  be  ruffled,  its  ripples  are  gold. 


24 


TRAVELLING  PARTY. 


Awake,  love  ! all  Nature  is  smiling,  yet  I — 

I cannot  smile,  dearest ! when  Thou  art  not  by. 
Look  from  thy  bower,  then — here  on  the  lake, 
Pulse  of  my  beating  heart — wake,  oh ! awake. 


LETTER  XXII. 

Travelling  Party — Backwood  Beauties — An  Indian  Beauty — 
Travelling  Vehicles — Our  Coachman — A Breakdown — Settlers — 
Warfare  with  Indians — Anomaly  in  Morals — Indian-hating — Pio- 
neers— Wandering  Indians — Night  on  the  Prairie — A Jumper. 

Wisconsan  Territory,  Feb.  18,  1834. 

I hardly  kjiow  whence  to  date  this  letter,  unless 
it  be  from  the  sources  of  the  Sinsinnaway,  between 
Prairie  du  Chien  and  Galena.  I left  Prairie  du 
Chien  in  a furious  squall  of  snow,  which,  violent 
as  it  was,  however,  could  not  affect  the  politeness 
of  the  young  officer,  who  insisted  upon  driving  me 
six  or  seven  miles,  to  the  banks  of  the  Wisconsan* 
in  a cariole.  A gentleman  who  fills  a civil  station 
of  some  importance  on  the  frontier,  was  waiting 
for  me  at  the  crossing  place,  where  several  squaws, 
with  immense  packs,  sustained,  after  the  usual  In- 
dian fashion  of  carrying  burthens,  by  a band  around 
the  forehead,  collected  with  two  or  three  French- 
men and  half-breeds,  under  a shed  appertaining  to 
a large  stone  mansion  on  the  immediate  bank  of 
the  river,  gave  to  the  place  the  appearance  of  an 

* See  note  C. 


EACKWOOD  BEAUTIES. 


25 


extensive  trading  establishment.  Entering  the  house 
for  a moment,  I found  two  rather  pretty  and  very  well- 
dressed  young  girls  of  sixteen  or  eighteen,  whose 
raven  locks  and  eyes  of  jet  alone  proclaimed  their 
half-blood  origin.  One  of  the  ladies  sketched  (they 
had  been  educated  either  at  Detroit  or  St.  Louis), 
and  we  had  just  got  into  a discussion  upon  the 
plates  of  a new  English  annual  which  she  had  in 
her  hands,  when  a call  from  without  compelled 
me  at  once  to  bid  my  friend  farewell,  and  leave 
him  the  agreeable  task  of  entertaining  the  back- 
wood  beauties  by  himself.  I have  at  different  pla- 
ces on  the  frontier  seen  some  of  these  half-breed 
fair  ones,  the  piquancy  of  whose  charms  would 
excite  no  slight  sensation  in  the  gay  circles  of  the 
Atlantic  States.  But,  like  the  full-blooded  Indian 
females,  they  lose  their  beauty  very  soon;  like 
them  too,  when  faded,  they  exhibit  a harshness  of 
feature  which  is  almost  forbidding.  An  aged  Indian 
has  often  something  interesting  and  even  attractive  in 
his  countenance  ; but  an  aged  squaw,  or  one  even  in 
whose  face  the  light  of  youth  no  longer  lingers,  is 
any  thing  but  prepossessing — is  even  haggish.  It 
is  to  this  frail  and  fleeting  condition  of  their  charms 
that  the  early  desertion  of  their  husbands,  whether 
red  or  white,  is  chiefly  to  be  attributed  : for  the 
affection,  the  fondness,  the  devotedness  of  an  Indian 
girl  to  her  lover  know  no  bounds,  and  her  truth  is 
beyond  impeachment.  In  the  strange  intermixture 
of  population  on  the  frontiers,  these  qualities  are  of 
course  oftener  and  more  severely  tried  than  in  those 
distant  wilds  where  the  Indian  still  roves  free  from 


26 


AN  INDIAN  BEAUTY. 


the  perilous  influence  of  the  white  man,  untaught 
in  those  principles- of  morality  which  are  made  to 
depend  upon  degrees  of  latitude  and  longitude,  and 
unskilled  in  that  system  of  dealing  which  takes  its 
colour  of  fairness  according  to  the  blood  of  the 
person  dealt  with.  I have  said  that  though  their 
features  are  not  often  regular,  there  is  at  times 
something  very  attractive,  even  to  piquancy,  about 
them.  You  would  think  so,  I know,  could  you 
see  one  that  I have  in  “ my  mind’s  eye”  at  this 
moment. 

I have  fallen  in  with  so  many  straggling  parties 
and  broken  bands  of  different  tribes  upon  the  bor- 
ders, between  Detroit  and  Prairie  du  Chien,  that  it 
matters  not  to  say  at  what  point  I had  an  opportu- 
nity of  studying  the  large  dark  and  eloquent  eyes 
that  beam  in  swimming  lustie  before  me.  The 
straight  forehead  is,  perhaps,  a thought  too  low  ; 
and  yet,  while  those  tresses,  dark  as  night,  are 
gathered  so  far  away  from  its  broad  polished  sur- 
face, it  were  too  masculine  if  an  atom  higher.  I 
said  her  features  were  not  regular  ; the  nose  is  too 
retrousse  for  a sculptor’s  model,  yet  never  did  his  chi- 
sel set  that  feature  with  more  beautiful  distinctness, 
between  a pair  of  clear  and  pencilled  brows.  How 
much  of  manhood’s  force  and  woman’s  fondness 
dwells  around  that  mouth  ! and  when  its  dewy  por- 
tals disclose  teeth  whiter  than  snow  upon  a raven’s 
wing,”  one  need  not  be  a Mahometan  to  fancy 
Houri’s  lips  like  those.  But  what  shall  I say  of 
her  figure  ? It  is  too  much  below  the  standard 
height  to  create  a sensation  in  a ball-room  ; and  the 


TRAVELLING  VEHICLES. 


27 


untrained  waist  were  it  not  for  the  plump  though 
falling  shoulders,  and  full  outline  above,  would  not 
appear  too  slender  to  dispense  with  some  of  Mrs. 
Cantello’s  discipline  : yet  such  a form  would  Hebe 
choose,  should  she  roam  the  world  for  a new  tene- 
ment to  dwell  in. 

To  repeat  the  unspeakable  and  ludicrously  ex- 
pressive name  of  this  Indian  beauty  would  destroy 
any  interest  this  attempt  at  describing  her  may 
have  created ; and  I am  half  disposed  to  steal  the 
finely  appropriate  name  of  a Menomone  belle, 
strongly  resembling  her,  who  is  called  Mokeeche- 
won,  or  “ The  Bubbling  Spring,” 

But  I am  too  long  a truant  from  my  fellow  tra- 
veller. We  descended  the  steep  bluff  together, 
and  got  upon  the  now  frail  ice  of  the  Wisconsan, 
by  means  of  poles  and  pieces  of  loose  timber  thrown 
out  from  the  shore,  while  we  slid  our  baggage 
%pon  a smooth  board  over  a broad  opening  near 
the  margin  of  the  rapid  current.  Once  on  the 
main  body  of  the  ice,  I was  dragged  over  in  a 
traineau  by  Indians,  while  a Canadian  or  two  went 
ahead  with  long  poles  to  try  the  ice  ; and  then  on 
reaching  the  opposite  shore,  the  same  ceremonies 
being  repeated,  we  after  -some  delay  made  good 
our  landing.  A tall  rickety  old  barouche,  (I  should 
as  soon  think,  of  driving  an  ox-cart  into  my  bed- 
room, as  bringing  such  a machine  among  these  hills 
at  this  season)  stood  waiting  for  us  in  a frozen 
swamp : after  stowing  our  baggage,  and  making 
the  crank  craft  shorten  sail  by  lowering  the  leathern 
top,  we  got  fairly  under  way.  We  had  not  gone  a 


28 


OUR  COACHMAN. 


mile  before  the  swingle-tree  broke,  while  crossing 
a brisk  stream  ; and  our  driver  having  repaired  the 
difficulty  after  an  hour’s  delay  in  a heavy  snow- 
storm, by  cutting  a piece  of  wood  with  his  knife 
from  a grove  at  hand,  we  started  afresh,  and  reached 
the  foot  of  the  bluff  by  which  you  first  descend  into 
the  valley  of  the  Wisconsan,  at  about  three  o’clock. 
The  ascent — perhaps  two  hundred  feet  high — was 
in  two  pitches,  either  of  which,  on  a summer’s  day, 
would  trouble  a man  to  walk  up,  who  wanted  wind 
and  a firm  tread.  They  were  now  covered  with 
fresh  snow,  having  an  underlayer  of  smooth  ice, 
created  by  the  previous  thaw,  and  the  office  of  our 
two  half-starved  horses  in  getting  up  the  old  ba- 
rouche, you  may  readily  imagine,  was  no  sinecure. 
The  driver  (from  my  own  state)  was  a forward, 
two-third  witted  fellow,  grafting  the  impudence  of 
a New- York  hackney  coachman  upon  the  not  disa- 
greeable freedom  of  western  character.  His  head 
was  coated  with  a mass  of  hair,  which  curled  so 
tight  as  to  keep  his  eyes  always  open  on  the  stare, 
while  it  was  lined  with  an  accumulation  of  conceit 
that  actually  puffed  out  his  cheeks  ; yet  he  was 
bold,  active,  and,  notwithstanding  his  disagreeable 
familiarity,  meant  well.  His  two  nags  (which  looked 
like  frames  of  that  interesting  quadruped  the  horse, 
set  up  for  further  finishing)  he  honestly  believed, 
with  Goldfinch,  were  “ equal  to  any  pair  of  tits  that 
ever  touched  harness  and  therefore  treated  our 
suggestion  that  they  would  not  be  able  to  make 
good  their  footing  to  the  top  of  the  hill  with  just 
disdain,  Like  Bonaparte,  however,  he  paused  to 


SLIPPERY  TRAVELLING, 


29 


harangue  his  forces  before  scaling  the  Alps — “ Now, 
you  Doctor,  be  careful  how  you  tread,  you  infernal 
villain — and,  Fanny,  you  know  better,  you  hussy, 
than  to  let  the  Doctor  be  always  a-dragging  you 
his  side  the  road — now  go  ahead,  G — d d — n you  !” 
This  pithy  address  seemed  to  be  as  well  under- 
stood by  the  sagacious  brutes  as  if  our  friend  had 
spoken  in  the  Hounhym  language,  like  Gulliver 
himself.  The  learned  M.  D.  and  the  gentle  Fanny 
gave  such  a violent  start,  that,  what  with  our  push- 
ing behind  the  vehicle  and  our  conductor’s  urging 
them  on  with  an  enormous  ox-goad  before,  the  first 
ascent  was,  with  much  floundering,  soon  made  good : 
but  they  could  no  more.  Like  Saunders  Supplejaw 
in  Quentin  Durward,  “there  they  stuck.”  They 
did  indeed  make  little  excursions  up  the  side  of  the 
hill,  but  it  was  only  to  slip  back  to  the  same  place. 
Nor  did  I wonder  at  it.  I was  obliged  myself  to 
climb  the  slippery  steep  on  my  hands  and  knees, 
at  the  risk  of  having  my  neck  broken  by  the  floun- 
dering horses,  who  once  nearly  gained  the  top, 
when,  their  footing  giving  way,  they  came  tumbling 
down,  carriage  and  all,  jumbled  together  like  the 
picture  of  Phaeton’s  mishap  in  the  school  edition 
of  Tooke’s  Pantheon.  In'  this  last  attempt  they 
fortunately  broke  the  carriage,  .or  we  might  have 
cooled  our  heels  on  the  spot  till  midnight. 

In  the  existing  wreck  of  matter,  however,  we 
determined  at  once  to  mount  the  two  horses  bare- 
back,  while  our  conductor  should  try  and  keep  up 
with  us  on  foot  till  we  gained  the  house  of  a settler 
some  six  or  seven  miles  off,  and  could  send  back  a 


30 


THE  GENTLE  FANNY, 


conveyance  for  our  baggage.  The  horses  being 
with  some  difficulty  led  up  the  hill,  our  conductor 
began  at  once  to  try  the  strength  of  his  legs,  by 
kicking  the  poor  brutes  in  their  ribs, — an  application 
which  the  Doctor  took  with  as  much  quiet  as  if  he 
felt  that  he  deserved  it  for  his  malpractice.  The 
gentle  Fanny,  however,  seemed  determined  to  show 
her  humane  master  that,  however  he  might  excel 
her  in  the  use  of  the  whip,  she  was  more  than  a 
match  for  him  when  it  came  to  a flourish  of  heels  ; 
and  accordingly,  she  handled  her  hoofs  with  such 
dexterity  that  one  of  them  descended  so  plumply 
upon  the  epigastrium  of  the  offending  conductor  as 
nearly  to  drive  the  breath  out  of  his  body.  He 
recoiled  a few  paces  in  the  snow,  but  did  not  seem 
the  least  hurt,  while  I mounted  his  assailant  before 
another  round  could  be  had  between  the  com- 
batants ; and  my  companion  taking  the  other  horse, 
we  all  pushed  off  together  as  fast  as  we  could  from 
the  scene  of  our  misfortunes.  Commend  me  to  an 
afternoon’s  canter  on  the  back  of  a broadsword, 
but  never  let  my  limbs  cross  the  naked  chine  of 
such  a beast  again  in  a trot  of  six  miles.  My 
companion  soon  dismounted  and  yielded  his  place 
to  the  driver,  who  clung  to  the  bed  of  down  the 
rest  of  the  route,  twisting  and  turning  the  whiles 
thereon  at  a rate  that  made  the  wolves — of  which 
we  passed  several — stop  and  stare  at  him,  as  if  he 
had  had  the  St.  Vitus’s  dance. 

The  cabin  at  which  we  stopped  belonged  to  an 
emigrant  originally  from  New-Hampshire,  but  now 
for  fifteeen  years  a rover  in  the  west.  From  his 


SETTLERS. 


31 


present  residence  he  had  been  several  times  driven 
off  by  the  Indians,  and  of  course,  like  most  of  the 
settlers,  hated  them  cordially.  He  had  two  or 
three  loaded  lifles  suspended  by  wooden  hooks  over 
his  fireplace ; and  assigned  to  me  as  a reason  for 
keeping  them  always  thus  ready,  “ that  he  was  a 
lone  man,  and  didn’t  want  any  rascally  Indian  to 
come  snooping  for  hogs  about  his  place.” — “Surely, 
sir,”  I observed,  “ you  would  not  shoot  them  unless 
they  did  you  mischief?” — “ Why,  I don’t  say  as  to 
that,  stranger;  but  the  varmint  give  us  a heap  of 
trouble  ; and  I’d  rather  for  their  own  sakes  that 
none  of  their  rifles  would  come  cracking  about  my 
door.” — u Well,  I always  get  rid  of  the  red  devils,” 
pursued  an  old  backwmodsman  standing  by,  “with- 
out shooting  any  on  them  ; and  it’s  only  by  catching 
two  that  came  hunting  near  me  last  spring,  and 
making  them  understand  that  they  run  a smart 
chance  for  their  lives  if  they  ever  come  within  rifle- 
shot of  my  cornfield  again.  Government’s  bought 
their  land,  and  it’s  wrong  for  them  to  be  cavorting 
round  quiet  people’s  houses  any  more.”  Contrast 
such  views  and  feelings  with  the  hospitable  conduct 
towards  the  Indians  of  recent  settlers  from  your 
own  state,  which  I have  commemorated  in  former 
letters,  and  you  will  for  the  moment  feel  a glow  of 
pride  for  the  generous  dealings  of  the  New- York 
emigrant.  Examine  the  subject  deeper,  and  that 
just  pride  will  not  be  diminished ; but  you  will  at 
least  have  charity  for  the  startling  creed  of  the  old 
backwoodsman. 

The  cause  of  the  existing  hatred  of  many  of  the 


32 


WARFARE  WITH  INDIANS. 


old  borderers  of  the  very  name  of  Indian  must  be 
sought  for  far  back  in  the  bloody  annals  of  our 
frontiers.  Its  origin  may  there  be  found  in  the 
fierce  collisions,  the  midnight  burnings,  the  mas- 
sacres, and  cruel  devastations  which  are  familiar  to 
us  in  a thousand  tales  of  our  infancy.  The  bitter 
feelings,  the  recollection  of  wrongs  committed  or 
incurred— -of  vengeance  wreaked  or  reaped  in  these 
desperate  scenes, — have  lived  for  generations  in 
the  families  of  their  daring  and  much-enduring 
actors.  In  the  solitary  life  of  a frontier  man,  so  far 
removed  from  the  ordinary  objects  which  engage 
the  thoughts  of  men  of  his  class  in  thickly  settled 
parts  of  the  country,  they  form  his  chief  subject  for 
reflection  when  roving  the  forest  or  labouring  alone 
in  the  field  by  day ; and  they  are  the  theme  upon 
which  he  descants  when  his  young  offspring  gather 
around  their  humble  hearth  by  night.  His  children 
drink  in  the  story  with  all  tHe  greediness  of  infant 
ears;  and  when,  wishing  for  the  detail  of  further 
horrors,  they  are  placed  perforce  by  their  mother 
on  their  pallet  of  straw,  she  stills  their  cries  by 
whispering  the  name  of  some  dreaded  chieftain  in 
their  ears — as  I have  more  than  once  myself  heard 
the  name  of  Blackhawk  used  to  still  the  murmurs 
of  a nursling.  The  lessons  thus  taught  are  inera- 
dicable, while  the  accumulated  passions  and  preju- 
dices of  generations  are  transmitted  and  kept  alive. 
A peculiar  class  of  men  is  thus  created,  or  rather 
was  created  years  and  years  ago,— a class  of  men 
as  distinct  in  many  respects  from  the  more  happily 
situated  inhabitants  of  countries  sheltered  by  the 


INDIAN  HATING. 


33 


strong  arm  of  the  law,  as  if  it  had  its  birth  in  another 
planet ; and  the  chief  characteristic  of  its  members 
is  (I  do  not  speak  ironically),  that  they  have  two 
consciences — one  for  the  white-and  another  for  the 
red*  man.  You  smile  incredulously  at  such  an 
anomaly  in  morals ; but  however  paradoxical  it 
may  appear  upon  paper,  it  is  a fact  as  notorious  as 
the  open  day,  that  there  have  been  and  are  men  on 
the  frontiers  whose  dealings’ with  civilized  society, 
whose  general  humanity,  whose  exact  attendance 
even  to  their  religious  duties,  are  such  as  to  ensure 
them  respect,  if  not  to  give  them  weight,  in  any 
well  ordered  community, — and  that  with  these  very 
men  the  rights  and  privileges,  the  property,  the  life 
of  an  Indian,  do  not  weigh  a feather.  For  some 
most  remarkable  and  deeply  interesting  facts  in 
relation  to  this  strange  incongruity  of  disposition,  I 
refer  you  to  several  admirable  articles  on  frontier 
life  and  “ Indian  hating,”  in  the  back  numbers  of 
Judge  Hall’s  Western  Magazine.* 

Now  this  is  the  class — bold,  enterprising,  and 

* If  I am  not  very  much  mistaken,  the  records  of  the  criminal 
court  in  the  county  of  Montgomery,  state  of  New- York,  will  supply 
some  facts  in  relation  to  Indian  hating  nearer  home.  I think  it  was' 
only  October  1833,  that  I saw  a statement  in  a Johnstown  news- 
paper in  relation  to  an  Indian  murder  committed  by  an  old  man  of 
sixty,  who  had  been  in  past  years  tried  and  acquitted  by  Mohawk 
juries,  several  times,  upon  different  indictments  for  Indian  murders. 
He  destroyed  his  victim,  whom  he  had  never  seen  till  that  moment, 
by  picking  him  off  with  his  rifle,  while  fishing  in  his  canoe  between 
twTo  white  men.  With  regard  to  the  murderer  it  was  said,  that, 
like  Logan,  not  a drop  of  his  blood  ran  in  the  veins  of  any  living 
creature.  His  kindred  had  been  cut  off  by  the  Indians  while  he 
was  yet  a child. 

VOL.  II. — D 


34 


PIONEERS* 


hardy,  true  to  each  other,  and  just  and  hospitable  to 
the  white  stranger,  but  having  no  place  in  their  sys- 
tem of  doing  good  for  the  unfriended  Indian— which, 
since  the  earliest  settlement  of  the  back  countries, 
have  been  brought  continually  in  contact  with*  the 
original  possessors  of  the  soil.  They  alone  are  the 
real  pioneers.  Wave  after  wave  of  western  emi- 
gration has  rolled  from  our  cultivated  coast  over  the 
Alleghanies  and  the  Mississippi ; but  while  each 
shot  beyond  its  predecessor,  and  left  it  settling  far 
behind,  it  has  only  thrust  in  advance,  it  has  never 
absorbed  or  commingled  with,  the  distinct  and  nar- 
row currents  that  first  led  the  way.  The’se  pioneers 
do  indeed  continually  penetrate  beyond  the  imme- 
diate Indian  boundaries,  and  there,  as  is  the  case  in 
the  peninsula  of  Michigan,  you  may  see  the  heredi- 
tary enemies  they  have  left  behind  living  upon  the 
kindest  terms  with  the  new  white  population  that 
succeeds,  until  their  land  becomes  so  valuable  as  to 
be  coveted  by  their  neighbours,  when  government 
steps  in  and  removes  them  once  more  to  struggle 
with  their  old  enemies  beyond  the  border.  Driven 
from  his  favourite  hunting-grounds — torn  from  the 
graves  of  his  fathers,  for  which  he  has  a sacred  and 
almost  passionate  veneration — the  poor  Indian  goes 
forth  to  dwell  among  a strange  and  often  a hostile 
people,  with  whom  his  dismembered  and  broken 
tribe  soon  passes  into  a by-word.  There,  gene- 
rally, the  terms  he  is  upon  with  the  scattered  pio- 
neers that  have  reached  even  that  remote  place  be- 
fore him,  preclude  him  from  a market  for  his  veni- 
son and  skins  in  his  immediate  neighbourhood  ; and 


WANDERING  INDIANS. 


35 


if  he  does  not  take  to  shooting  his  white  neighbours’ 
hogs,  and  get  brought  down  himself  by  a rifle-ball 
in  return,  he  wanders  off  to  some  distant  trading- 
post,  where  he  runs  himself  incurably  in  debt  by 
taking  at  credit  the  articles  necessary  for  his  sub- 
sistence, at  a thousand  per  cent,  above  their  market 
value.  Here  he  learns  from  the  Scotch  and  English 
trader  to  love  the  Saginash*  and  hate  the  Chemo- 
comon;\  to  go  with  the  various  tribes  within  our 
borders  which  the  British  government  at  this  mo- 
ment religiously  keep  in  their  pay,  to  receive  arms 
and  presents  at  Malden ; and  to  hold  himself  ready 
to  join  the  first  marauding  party  of  his  red  brethren 
which  shall  raise  the  warwhoop  on  the  border,  and 
add  new  venom  to  the  deadly  feud  of  the  pioneer. 
Sometimes,  indeed,  he  becomes  a dealer  in  small 
peltries  on  his  own  account,  and  annually  visits  the 
home  of  his  childhood,  where  some  thriving  village 
has  in  the  mean  time  sprung  up,  to  dispose  of  the 
fruits  of  the  chase,  and  get  his  supply  of  little  ne- 
cessaries' in  return.  Several  instances  of  the  last 
were  mentioned  to  me  at  the  pretty  hamlets  of  Ot-. 
tawa  and  Hennepin,  on  the  Illinois,  where  I was 
told  that  the  storekeepers  dealt  with  different  Indians, 
whom  they  had  repeatedly  trusted  to  the  amount 
of  several  hundred  dollars  for  the  term  of  a year, 
without  their  confidence  being  ever  abused.  But 
the  Indian,  returning  hence  to  his  wild-wood  haunts, 
still,  in  passing  the  frontier,  avoids  the  beings  be- 
tween whom  and  himself  there  is  such  a fearful  ac- 


* Englishman. 


t American. 


36 


WANDERING  INDIANS. 


count  of  mutual  wrong  and  injury  left  unbalanced ; 
and  if  he  lies  down  at  night  beneath  the  shelter  of 
a white  man’s  roof,  it  is  one  that  covers  the  family 
of  some  new  wanderer  to  the  west,  to  whom  the 
wild  deeds  of  frontier-life  are  only  known  through 
the  softened  medium  of  fiction,  as  a tale  of  other 
days.  But  much  more  likely  is  he,  if  his  blanket 
alone  be  not  his  bed,  to  betake  himself  to  some  ten- 
antless mansion,  where  the  charred  shell  of  what 
was  formerly  the  family  dwelling  of  a once  happy 
but  now  desolated  pioneer  blackens  the  lonely  heath. 
Here,  while  the  prairie  ^blast  whistles  through  the 
gaping  timbers,  the  Indian,  crouched  upon  the  floor 
where  the  feet  of  his  red  brothers  have  slipped  in 
the  blood  their  ruthless  hands  have  shed,  may  well 
be  supposed  to  exult  in  the  demoniac  feelings  of 
gratified  revenge,  so  dear  to  his  race,— to  brood 
through  the  hours  of  midnight  over  the  accumulated 
wrongs  under  which  he  believes  himself  to  be  suf- 
fering, and  to  emerge  from  his  gloomy  lair  in  the 
morning  eager  for  an  encounter  that  may  relieve  his 
swollen  feelings.  Imagine  now  the  white  man,  who 
once  thought  himself  the  possessor  of  that  spot ; — 
he,  the  ruined  parent  of  that  shattered  home,  hang- 
ing around  the  only  remains  of  all  that  was  dear  to 
him  ! and  then  conceive  what  would  be  the  meeting 
of  two  such  beings.  There  is  not  another  touch 
required  to  the  picture  ; and  yet  it  is  no  picture — 
it  is  reality.  The  deserted  dwellings  I have  seen 
again  and  again.  The  stories  connected  with  them 
are  so  familiar  in  their  neighbourhood  as  to  be  told 
without  emotion.  The  state  of  feeling  they  keep 


NIGHT  ON  THE  PRAIRIE. 


37 


alive  among  the  whites  I have  already  explained. 
The  isolated  condition  of  the  Indian  is,  alas ! too 
well  known. 

But  enough  of  this  for  the  present , when  I have 
delivered  the  letters  which  I have  for  individuals 
high  in  the  Indian  department  farther  down  the 
country,  you  shall  have  my  own  crude  notions  in 
relation  to  our  national  policy  towards  this  singular 
people. 

Having  recovered  our  baggage,  I started  with 
my  fellow  traveller  at  about  ten  o’clock  the  next 
morning,  in  a jumper,  trusting  to  his  knowledge  of 
the  different  groves,  which  are  the  landmarks  of  the 
prairies,  for  finding  our  way  to  a neighbour’s,  be- 
tween thirty  and  forty  miles  off.  We  had  proceeded 
a very  few  miles,  when,  every  sign  of  a trail  being 
covered  with  snow,  we  became  completely  lost, 
and  wandered  over  the  prairie  for  eleven  hours  : 
sometimes,  indeed,  we  would  get  a snatch  of  a 
track  where  the  snow  had  drifted  it  bare,  but  a few 
moments  afterward  we  would  be  driving  just  as 
much  at  random  as  ever.  The  night  at  last  closed 
in  extremely  cold,  and  the  wind  swept  over  the 
prairie  so  piercingly,  that  the  very  wolves  seemed 
to  shiver  as  they  stood  looking  at  us  in  the  bright 
moonlight — (the  number  and  impudence  of  these 
rascals  on- the  prairies  is  almost  incredible) — but  the 
glorious  sky  above  us  seemed  to  lend  some  of  its 
influence  to  our  spirits ; and,  so  long  as  our  poor 
horse  held  out,  we  determined  to  keep  on.  His 
strength,  however,  began  to  be  too  much  tried  as 
*We  passed  along  the  mouth  of  a number  of  ravines 

d 2 


38 


A JUMPER. 


scooped  out  of  the  prairie,  and  descended  occasion- 
ally into  the  groves  that  filled  them,  to  see  if  we 
could  discover  a house.  The  wearied  brute  seemed 
so  loath  to  leave  the  last  one  we  entered,  that,  after 
pausing  and  hallooing  in  vain  for  some  time,  I pro- 
posed that  we  should  turn  him  loose  to  browse  on 
the  trees,  and,  making  a fire,  lie  down  in  the  snow 
for  the  night.  My  friend  preferred  trying  one  more 
ravine  for  the  house,  as  we  were  both  very  sharp 
set ; and  starting  anew  to  take  a short  cut  up  the 
hill-side,  we  *came  to  the  brink  of  a narrow  and 
deep  gully,  which  my  companion  got  out  to  examine. 
“ Jump  him  over,”  he  cried. 

“ Jump  the  devil ! — the  horse  can  hardly  step.” 

“ Try  him.” 

. “ He  ’ll  break  the  jumper.” 

“ Then  we’ll  camp  upon  the  spot.” 

The  grove  echoed  with  a single  application  I 
made  with  a flat  stick  to  the  poor  brute’s  back,  and 
the  flying  car  (emphatically  ay umper)  landed  safely 
with  me  in  it  on  the  other  side  of  the  gully.  We 
gained  the  open  prairie  once  more — heard  the  bark 
of  a watch-dog — and,  descending  another  ravine, 
were  comfortably  housed,  an  hour  before  midnight* 
in  the  log  dwelling  of  a miner. 


A PLEASANT  RETREAT. 


39 


LETTER  XXIII. 


A Pleasant  Retreat— Trenches — Solitary  Miner — Galena — Pub- 
lic Meeting — Whimsical  Conversation — Colonel  H. — The  Meeting 
— Incongruous  Apparel — Miners — Descend  a Mine — Interior  of 
the  Mine — Galena  Theatricals — Stage  Effects. 

Galena,  Upper  Mississippi,  February  22. 

When  I came  to  look  round,  in  the  morning,  at 
the  place  where  you  last  left  me  so  fortunately  ac- 
commodated, I found  that  our  host,  an  enterprising 
Kentuckian,  had  been  very  fortunate  in  his  choice 
of  a site  : it  was  a rocky  and,  as  I was  assured, 
healthful  dell,  about  a hundred  feet  below  the  sur- 
rounding prairie,  abounding  in  lead-ore,  and  having 
a fine  stream,  with  a considerable  cascade,  winding 
through  its  wooded  bosom.  His  house  was  situated 
among  a clump  of  ashes  and  elms,  and  near  it  a 
crystal  spring  burst  from  beneath  an  ancient  syca- 
more, in  what  resembled  a torrent  rather  than  an 
ordinary  fountain  of  water ; making  altogether  what 
in  summer  must  be  a most  delicious  retreat,  and 
affording  even  in  winter  a very  agreeable  change 
from  the  windy  prairie  above.  Inviting,  however, 
as  it  appeared,  this  sequestered  spot  had  some  fea- 
tures of  a sinister  aspect.  Within  a few  hundred 
yards  of  this  apparently  peaceful  dwelling,  stood  a 
strong  block-house  on  the  open  prairie  ; a refuge 


40 


TRENCHES. 


for  the  family  in  time  of  danger ; preventing  by  its 
naked  position,  the  secret  approach  of  a larking  foe. 

Passing  this  block-house,  after  an  early  breakfast, 
we  struck  a track  leading  to  the  Platte  Mounds, 
which  were  distinctly  visible,  rearing  their  blue 
peaks  in  the  morning  air.  Our  route  lay  through 
a beautiful  country  of  mingled  grove  and  prairie, 
where  large  herds  of  deer  were  occasionally  to  be 
seen  roving  about  at  several  miles’  distance.  Fre- 
quently, in  places  where  there  were  no  other  traces 
of  man,  we  came  to  trenches  opened  by  miners, 
who  had  either  abandoned  them  in  search  of  more 
promising  veins  of  ore,  or  had  been  driven  away  by 
the  Indians.  These  trenches  bear  exactly  the  ap- 
pearance of  a grave,  and  are  about  the  same  size ; 
and  you  sometimes  meet  with  hundreds  of  them  in 
the  course  of  a few  miles’  ride  : for  the  high  price 
of  lead,  before  the  Winnebago  difficulties  of  1828, 
attracted  a vast  number  of  adventurers  to  this  region, 
who  have  since  abandoned  it  for  the  mineral  dis- 
tricts of  Missouri. 

We  came  at  length  to  a place  where  two  miners 
were  sinking  a shaft  on  the  prairie ; and  as  there 
was  a windlass  at  work  over  the  aperture,  I pre- 
vailed on  my  companion  to  wait  until  I should  de- 
scend. I was  let  down  by  the  rope  in  a few  mo- 
ments, and  passing  through  an  upper  crust  of  rich 
soil,  at  least  three  feet  thick,  a stratum  of  gravel 
succeeded,  and  then  coming  down  to  the  clay,  I 
found  a solitary  miner  with  his  pick  at  work  upon 
a vein  of  lead-ore.  “Halloo,  stranger  !”  .he  cried, 
as  dangling  midway  I darkened  the  only  opening 


GALENA. 


41 


by  which  he  could  receive  light ; “ where  the  devil 
do  you  come  from?” — “From  the  state  of  New- 
York,”  I answered,  alighting  on  a big  lump  of  lead- 
ore  near  him.  “Well,  Fm  from  the  state  of  Maine,” 
replied  he,  laughing ; “ and  Fm  glad  to  see  any  one 
from  so  near  home.”  I could  not  but  smile  to  think 
how  distant  places  on  the  Atlantic  border  approach 
each  other,  when  viewed  from  this  remote  spot.  I 
shook  hands  with  my  near  neighbour  of  Maine, 
pocketed  two  or  three  specimens  of  ore  which  he 
struck  out  for  me,  and  giving  a signal  with  the  rope 
to  those  above  at  the  windlass,  my  resurrection  to 
daylight  was  effected  in  a few  moments. 

We  arrived  at  the  Platte  Mounds  in  the  course  of 
the  afternoon ; but  it  was  late  on  the  fourth  day  from 
Prairie  du  Chien  when  we  reached  Galena.  Here 
I have  been  sorry  to  lose  my  late  agreeable  fellow 
traveller ; and  a fresh  thaw  having  laid  an  embargo 
upon  travelling,  by  melting  the  snow  and  rendering 
the  streams  impassable,  I have  endeavoured  to  oc- 
cupy my  time  in  looking  about  Galena.  The  mud 
is  so  deep  that  it  is  impossible  to  go  afoot ; and  as 
these  steep  hills  are  unfit  for  carriages,  the  children 
going  and  returning  from  school  pass  the  door  of 
my  lodgings  on  horseback  every  morning  and  even- 
ing ; three  or  four  boys  and  girls  sometimes  being 
piled  on  before  and  behind  an  old  negro,  till  the 
mass  of  heads,  arms,  and  legs  belonging  to  the  ju- 
veniles makes  the  fabric  look  like  the  wood-cut  in 
the  nursery-book  of  that  celebrated  ancient  female’s 
residence,  who  “ had  so  many  children  she  did  not 
know  Avhat  to  do.” 


42 


PUBLIC  MEETING. 


The  population  of  Galena  is  about  a thousand, 
and  that  of  Jo-Davies’s  county,  in  which  it  is  situ- 
ated, is  computed  at  five  thousand ; a very  large 
proportion  of  which  is  engaged  in  mining  operations. 
The  town,  for  its  size,  is  one  of  the  busiest  places 
in  the  Union.  The  value  of  goods  imported  into 
this  place  last  season  amounted  to  150,000  dollars  ; 
the  exports  of  lead  amounted  to  seven  millions  of 
pounds,  at  four  dollars  fifty  cents  per  hundredweight. 
There  were  ninety-six  departures  and  ninety-seven 
arrivals  of  steam-boats  during  the  last  season;  three 
of  which  were  owned  by  persons  engaged  directly 
in  the  trade.  This,  for  a frontier-town,  built  indif- 
ferently of  frame  and  log-houses,  thrown  confusedly 
together  on  the  side  of  a hill,  is  certainly  doing  very 
well.  People  now  hold  their  property  by  a some- 
what precarious  tenure,  which  prevents  them  from 
making  improvements.  When  government  gives 
them  title-deeds  to  the  lands  they  occupy,  both  Ga- 
lena and  the  adjacent  country  will  assume  a very 
different  appearance. 

I took  quite  an  extensive  ride  in  the  neighbour- 
hood yesterday.  There  was  to  be  a public  meeting 
of  the  miners  and  other  residents,  held  about  twelve 
or  fifteen  miles  from  town,  upon  the  subject  of  pe- 
titioning Congress  in  relation  to  the  sale  of  lands ; 
and  having  procured  a tolerable  saddle-horse,  I 
started  with  Colonel  H., — whose  family-name  is 
already  known  among  the  very  first  in  our  history, 
and  whose  acknowledged  talents  and  influence  in 
this  quarter  will  ensure  his  making  a figure  in  pub- 
lic life,  when  the  new  state  of  Wisconsan  shall  take 


WHIMSICAL  CONVERSATION'* 


43 


her  place  in  the  confederacy.*  But  a few  years 
have  elapsed  since  he  left  the  city  of  New-York,  a 
mere  youth,  to  try  his  fortune  in  the  west, — since 
then  he  has  followed  at  different  times  the  various 
occupations  of  a lawyer,  a drover,  a miner,  and  lastly 
a smelter,  besides  taking  an  active  part  in  two  Indian 
wars,  where  his  early  West  Point  education  came 
favourably  into  play.  Colonel  H.  is,  perhaps,  se- 
cond only  to  General  Dodge  in  knowledge  of  fron- 
tier affairs,  and  popularity  with  the  backwoodsmen 
in  this  quarter. 

I cannot  give  you  a better  idea  of  the  thoroughly 
democratic  state  of  society  here,  than  by  repeating 
the  whimsical  conversation  in  which  I first  became 
aware  of  this  gentleman’s  being  a resident  of  these 
parts* 

“I  allow  that  you  know  Colonel  H.  of  your 
city  ?”  asked  a sturdy  borderer  and  thriving  farmer 
of  me,  a few  weeks  since,  while  in  the  lower 
country. 

“ Colonel  H.,  the  son  of  General  PI.  ? certainly 
I do  : why,  what  in  the  world  brought  him  out  here 
at  this  season?  You  must  be  mistaken,  my  dear 
sir ; the  duties  of  his  office,  as  U.  S.  district  at- 

* A period  much  less  remote  than  many  would  think  it.  The 
country  between  Rock  River  and  the  Wisconsan  combines  perhaps 
more  advantages  for  emigration  than  any  described  in  the  whole  of 
this  tour.  That  lying  between  the  Fox  River  and  Lake  Michi- 
gan is  represented  as  being  equally  good ; and,  supposing  the  Indian 
difficulties  to  be  now  for  ever  terminated  in  this  quarter,  this  region 
will  fill  with  northern  emigrants  the  moment  it  becomes  known. 
A glance  at  the  map  will  show  how  favourably  it  is  situated  for 
trade,  commanding  the  markets  alike  of  Buffalo  and  New- Orleans. 


44 


WHIMSICAL  CONVERSATION. 


torney,  would  hardly  allow  him  to  take  such  a tour 
as  this.” 

“ Tower , stranger!  why  he’s  living  among  us.” 

“Here  ?” 

u No,  not  exactly  on  this  prairie,  but  m the  mines. 
The  colonel  took  a drove  of  hogs  up  for  me,  some 
time  since.” 

“My  dear  friend,”  replied  I,  laughing  heartily  at 
the  very  idea,  “ Colonel  H.  would  see  you  to  the 
devil  first,  before  he’d  take  ten  steps  after  a drove 
of  hogs,  for  you  or  any  one  else.” 

“ By  G — d ! sir,”  rejoined  the  backwoodsman, 
with  some  excitement,  “you  don’t  know  little  Bill; 
for  though  he  is  the  son  of  General  H.,  and  the 
smartest  man  in  all  ‘these  parts  to  boot,  he  has  none 
of  y’r  d — d foolish  pride  about  him ; but  would  just 
as  soon  drive  any  honest  man’s  hogs  over  the  prairie 
as  his  own.” 

“ Certainly,  sir,  the  Colonel  H.  that  I mean 
would  just  as  soon  drive  your  hogs  as  he  wrould  his 
own ; but  I now  perceive  that  your  ‘ little  Bill’  is  a 
very  different  person  from  the  one  I allude  to:  yet 
no  one  could  admire  the  independence  of  character 
you  ascribe  to  him  more  than  I do.” 

“ Squire,  give  us  your  hand  ! you  and  little 
Bill  must  know  each  other  before  you  leave  this 
country.” 

I had  an  opportunity  of  hearing  Mr.  H.  address 
a public  meeting  on  the  evening  of  my  arrival  in 
Galena,  and  was  much  struck  with  the  logical  pre- 
cision and  force  with  which  he  spoke ; and  with 
his  fluency,  clear  enunciation,  and  thorough  com- 


COLONEL  H. 


45 


mand  of  himself  and  his  audience.  His  features, 
when  animated  in  speaking,  bore  a striking  resem- 
blance to  those  of  his  great  and  lamented  father,  as 
exhibited  in  the  plaster  casts  which  are  familiar  to 
every  one. 

“ Colonel  H.,?’  said  the  gentleman  who  intro- 
duced me,  “is  at  present  disguised  in  a suit  of 
broadcloth ; to  have  him  in  character,  sir,  you 
should  see  him  in  his  leather  shirt  and  drawers, 
driving  his  ox-team  with  a load  of  lead  into  town.” 
Mr.  H.  laughed  in  reply;  and  our  horses  being 
ready,  we  mounted,  and  soon  escaping  from  the 
muddy  town,  found  topics  enough  for  conversation 
while  galloping  through  the  oak  openings  on  the 
hills  beyond.  The  gathering  proved  to  be  not  so 
numerous,  when  we  arrived  at  the  place  of  meet- 
ing, as  I had  hoped ; and,  though  in  the  grouping 
of  wild-looking  figures,  with  their  variety  of  strange 
faces  and  striking  costumes,  Inman’s  bold  pencil 
might  have  found  some  fine  studies,  yet  I was 
wholly  disappointed  in  any  outlandish  exhibitions 
of  character.  They  were,  in  fact,  as  civil  and  well- 
behaved  a set  as  would  come  to  the  call  of  a com- 
mittee in  any  of  the  best  inhabited  wards  in  your 
city.  Their  civility  to  me,  indeed — being  a stranger 
- — could  not  be  exceeded  ; I never  approached  the 
fire,  but  two  or  three  rose  to  offer  me  a seat ; and 
scarcely  one  of  the  company  called  for  anything  to 
drink,  but,  turning  round,  he  would  add,  “ Stranger, 
won’t  you  join  us  ?”  As  we  spent  several  hours 
among  them  merely  talking  and  moving  round, 
without  getting  up  any  formal  meeting,.  I had  ample 

VOL.  II. — E 


46 


THE  MEETING. 


leisure  to  study  the  different  appearances  of  the 
company,  as  some  bent  over  a card-table,  where  the 
pieces  of  dirty  pasteboard  were  rapidly  compelling 
the  small  piles  of  money  collected  there  to  change 
hands ; while  others  lay  stretched  in  the  sun  upon 
the  wood-pile  before  the  open-door,  listlessly  whit- 
tling a piece  of  stick  with  their  long  hunting- 
knives.  One  of  the  most  striking  figures  was  a tall 
young  man  of  about  seven  or  eight-and-twenty, 
whose  delicate  features,  though  somewhat  im- 
browned  with  toil  and  exposure,  were  only  relieved 
from  effeminacy  by  a dark  beard  trimmed  around 
his  oval  face  and  depending  from  his  chinvmuch  in 
the  style  that  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  and  Shakspeare 
are  painted,— either  of  whose  fine  heads,  his  high, 
pale,  and  expressive  forehead  would  not  have  mis- 
become. His  figure,  about  six  feet  in  height,  was 
set  off  by  a close-fitting  hunting-shirt  of  black 
buckskin,  lightly  embroidered  on  the  collar  and 
arms  with  straw-coloured  silk,  which,  from  long 
use,  had  grown  so  dingy  as  scarcely  to  be  detected 
upon  the  rusty  leather  it  was  meant  to  adorn. 
Others  there  were  with  the  common  cotton  hunting- 
shirt  of  the  west  belted  around  them.  But  the 
majority  were  dressed  in  rough  blanket-coats  of 
every  possible  .colour;  while  a vest  of  the  most 
costly  description,  with  pantaloons  of  Kentucky 
jean,  would  often  complete  their  incongruous 
apparel. 

I could  form  a tolerable  estimate  of  the  intelli- 
gence of  this  collection  of  people,  from  observing 
the  language  which  my  new  friend  used  in  talking 


MINERS. 


47 


to  them  upon  the  subject  that  brought  them  to- 
gether ; and,  when  speaking  in  earnest,  it  was  inva- 
riably such  as  one  educated  gentleman  would  use 
to  another  when  comparing  views  upon  any  new 
topic  of  interest.  Upon  my  commenting  upon  this, 
after  we  had  bid  them  farewell,  and  were  riding  off 
together,  my  companion  observed,  that  there  were 
not  only  many  strong-minded  men  of  ordinary 
education  who  had  adopted  the  way  of  life  which  I 
saw  prevailing  around  me,  but  that,  had  I time  to 
remain  longer  in  that  section  of  country,  he  could 
point  out  to  me  a number  of  regularly  educated 
persons,  the  graduates  of  more  than  one  of  our 
eastern  colleges,  who  were  seeking  their  fortunes 
in  this  region  in  the  capacity  of  common  miners. 
While  he  was  yet  speaking,  we  were  accosted  by  a 
poorly  clad  and  in  every  respect  ordinary-looking 
person,  to  whom  my  companion  replied  with  great 
politeness  ; and  then  resuming  the  subject  after  we 
had  passed  the  forlorn  shantee  which  the  individual 
called  his  house, — “ Par  eocemple ,”  he  exclaimed, 
“ that  man — and  a shrewd,  sensible  fellow  he  is — - 
was  bred  to  the  bar  in  your  state  ; he  looks  poor 
enough  now,  it  is  true,  but  I hear  that  he  has  lately 
struck  a lead,  and  a few  years  will  probably  find 
him  in  independent  circumstances.  We  are  now, 
you  observe,  among  his  diggings ; and  though  at 
this  moment  he  has  hands  to  help  him,  I believe  he 
began,  like  most  of  us,  with  his  single  pick.  Clear 
that  trench,  now,  and  guide  your  horse  through 
those  pitfalls  on  the  right,  and  I will  take  you  to  a 
point  where  you  may  see  how  we  get  up  the  ore.” 


48 


DESCEND  A MINE. 


Following  my  conductor  along  a mile  or  two 
farther  of  pretty  rough  road,  we  came  at  last  to  a 
spot  where  a huge  mound  of  earth,  with  piles  of 
lead  ore  scattered  here  and  there  on  the  adjacent 
ground,  showed  that  a mine  was  very  successfully 
worked  beneath  ; and  giving  our  horses  to  an  ac- 
commodating fellow  that  stood  by,  we  threw  oft' our 
overcoats  and  prepared  to  descend  into  it.  The 
orifice  on  the  top  of  the  mound,  over  which  a wind- 
lass was  placed,  was  about  three  feet  square,  being 
lined  with  split  logs  crossing  each  other  at  the 
angles  down  to  the  original  surface  of  the  soil,  be- 
low which  point  the  adhesiveness  of  the  earth 
seemed  to  be  all  that  kept  the  sides  of  the  pit  to- 
gether. It  was  so  dark,  however,  at  this  part  of 
the  passage  down,  that  other  precautions  may  have 
escaped  me.  Taking  the  rope  from  above  in  my 
hands,  and  placing  my  foot  in  a wooden  hook 
attached  to  the  end  of  it,  I swung  myself  from  the 
top,  and  in  a few7  moments  descended  some  seventy 
or  eighty  feet  below  the  surface.  The  narrow 
chamber  was  of  course  excessively  dark  to  one  just 
coming  from  the  light  of  day  ; and  landing  upon 
the  edge  of  a tub  immediately  beneath  the  aperture 
through  which  I had  descended,  I lost  my  foothold 
and  pitched  head  over  heels  in  the  water  with 
which  the  bottom  of  the  mine  was  flooded.  “ Any 
one  hurt  ?”  cried  a voice  behind  me ; and  looking 
round  as  I sprang  to  my  feet,  I found  myself  in  a 
long  horizontal  passage  or  narrow  gallery,  with  a 
grim  looking  miner  approaching  me  with  a lantern 
in  one  hand  and  a pickaxe  in  the  other.  The  next 


INTERIOR  OF  THE  MINE. 


49 


moment  the  form  of  my  companion  darkened  the 
opening  above,  and  then,  after  landing  by  my  side, 
he  introduced  me  to  the  miner,  who  proceeded  to 
show  us  about  these  subterranean  premises.  They 
consisted  of  three  or  four  galleries,  generally  termi- 
nating in  a common  centre,  though  one  or  two  short 
ones;  just  commenced,  ran  off  at  right  angles  to  the 
rest ; and  the  lead  ore,  which  glitters  like  frosted 
silver  in  its  native  bed,  appeared  to  lie  in  thick 
horizontal  strata  along  their  side.  The  masses 
were  readily  separated  by  the  pickaxe  from  the 
neighbouring  clay,  and  several  tubs  full  were  drawn 
up  by  the  windlass  during  our  visit.  The  labour 
and  exposure  of  these  miners  is  very  great ; but  the 
life,  to  those  who  have  an  interest  in  the  work,  is 
said  to  be  so  exciting,  that  the  most  indolent  man, 
when  he  has  once  fairly  burrowed  under  ground, 
and  got  a scent  of  what  is  called  “ a lead”*  will 
vie  in  devotion  to  his  toil  with  the  most  industrious 
of  those  who  labour  in  the  light  of  heaven.  His 
stimulus,  indeed,  resembles  that  of  the  gold  hunter ; 
for  the  lead,  when  delivered  at  Galena,  is  as  good 
as  coin  in  his  pocket ; while,  if  he  chances  to  strike 
a rich  lead  of  mineral,  he  at  once  becomes  inde- 
pendent— as,  if  he  does  not  choose  to  work  it  on 
his  own  account,  there  are  houses  in  Galena  which 
will  purchase  him  out  for  a handsome  sum,  for  the 
sake  of  speculation. 

It  was  late  in  the  evening,  when,  after  taking 
this  wide  circuit,  I once  more  regained  my  lodgings 

* Query,  lode'? — From  Sax.  Iceden. — Encyc, 

E 2 


50 


GALENA  THEATRICALS. 


at  Galena.  I found  the  tavern  entirely  deserted, 
and  upon  inquiring  the  cause,  and  learning  that 
there  was  “ a play  to  be  acted  in  town,”  I rode  off 
at  once  to  attend  the  theatre.  It  was  in  the  upper 
part  of  an  unfinished  house  built  on  the  side  of  a 
hill.  Entering  the  front  door,  I had  to  make  my 
■way  to  a rude  staircase  by  a plank  laid  across  the 
naked  beams,  for  as  yet  there  was  no  floor  to  the 
lower  story.  Below  me  were  horses  feeding,  the 
basement  or  cellar,  which  opened  in  the  lower 
street,  being  used  as  a stable.  The  company  con- 
sisted of  four  grown  persons  and  a child  about  ten 
years  old,  and  the  play  was  the  melo-drama  of  The 
Woodman’s  Hut.  A thing  so  easily  turned  into 
ridicule  would  be  game  not  worth  hunting  down, 
and  I mean,  therefore,  to  disappoint  any  ill-natured 
expectations  you  may  have  of  the  picture  I could 
give  of  Galena  theatricals.  That  the  rest  of  the 
audience  were  at  least  as  liberal  as,  myself,  you 
may  gather  from  the  fact  of  their  showering  half- 
dollars  like  peas  upon  the  stage,  to  express  their 
delight  at  the  little  girl’s  dancing  between  the  acts, 
which  certainly  did  not  surpass  that  of  the  Yestris, 
not  to  mention  Taglioni.  I left  the  saloon  during 
the  performance  of  the  melo-drama,  and  was  stand- 
ing in  the  apartment  below,  when  I was  not  a little 
startled  by  a heavy  missile  which  whizzed  by  my 
ear,  struck  fire  in  encountering  a beam  near  to  me, 
and  concluded  its  career  by  giving  a hearty  thump 
to  a horse  who  was  soberly  ruminating  in  his  stall 
beneath.  The  mystery  was  presently  cleared  up 
by  a little  negro  dropping  at  a bound  from  the 


LEAVE  GALENA. 


51 


entrance  to  the  Thespian  hall  above,  and  exclaim- 
ing, “ Did  you  see  a gun  come  by  here,  sir  ? The 
count  went  to  stand  it  in  the  corner,  and  it 
slipped  between  the  planks  of  the  floor,”  I directed 
the  imp  to  the  realms  below,  and  starting  at  once 
for  my  lodgings,  had  no  further  opportunity  to  study 
these  unrehearsed  stage  effects. 


LETTER  XXIV. 

Leave  Galena — Mishap  on  the  Prairie — Fatal  Accidents — Sunny 
Landscape — Fertile  Soil — Proposed  Canal — State  of  Illinois. 

Peoria,  Illinois,  March  4th,  1834. 

I have  had  a variety  of  amusing  and  some  vexa- 
tious adventures  in  crossing  the  country  from 
Galena  to  this  central  place  ; but  you  have  now 
been  with  me  so  long  upon  the  prairies  that  I shall 
not  fatigue  you  by  detailing  more  of  a traveller’s 
passing  mishaps  and  petty  encounters.  The  great 
melting  of  the  snows  that  detained  me  a.t  Galena 
was  followed  by  a sharp  frost,-  which,  crusting  over 
the  swollen  streams,  made  their  passage  very  pain- 
ful for  the  horses.  In  passing  through  the  Winne- 
bago swamp,  we  drove  for  the  distance  of  a mile 
through  water  up  to  the  chests  of  our  hoises,  and 
so  heavily  coated  with  ice,  that  it  was  as  much  as 
the  leaders  could  do  to  break  a way  with  their  fore 
feet.  My  fellow  traveller,  however — for  I started 


52 


MISHAP  ON  THE  PRAIRIE. 


with  but  one  from  Galena — proved  to  be  an  old 
campaigner  and  capital  travelling  companion,  and 
we  managed  to  extract  some  amusement  from 
every  occurrence,  however  annoying ; and  whether 
we  were  jolting  over  the  frozen  ground  in  an  open 
wagon  without  springs  or  seats,  or  keeping  the 
freezing  night  wind  away  by  stuffing  our  bed- 
clothes in  the  crevices,  as  we  shared  a pallet  to- 
gether in  some  half-constructed  log-edifice,  the 
spirit  of  fun  and  good  humour  has  been  sympathetic 
between  us. 

About  a day’s  journey  from  Galena,  we  passed 
over  a reach  of  prairie,  some  twelve  or  fourteen 
miles  in  extent,  where  my  companion,  who  is  a 
middle-aged  man,  was  fortunate  enough,  a few 
winters  ago,  to  be  the  cause  of  saving  a great  many 
lives.  A train  of  sleighs,  holding  more  than  a 
dozen  people,  among  whom  were  several  females, 
started  immediately  after  breakfast  to  cross  this 
narrow  arm  of  the  prairie  ; and  though  the  distance 
was  only  what  I have  stated,  they  contrived  some- 
how to  lose  their  way  in  the  snow,  and  night  clos- 
ing in  found  them  apparently  as  far  from  the  house 
they  wer.e  seeking  as  when  they  started  in  the 
morning.  They  had,  in  fact,  during  a sudden  flurry 
of  snow  turned  completely  round,  and,  as  my  com- 
panion was  the  first  to  discover,  were  actually  going 
backward,  instead  of  advancing  on  their  route.  A 
council  was  at  once  held,  and  all  except  my  friend 
were  for  still  pushing  forward ; though  the  horses 
were  worn  down  with  fatigue,  and  several  of  the 
travellers  already  frost  bitten  or  becoming  torpid 


MISHAP  ON  THE  PRAIRIE. 


53 


with  cold.  But  my  companion,  who  probably  had 
more  experience  in  such  scenes  than  any  of  the 
company,  took  command  and  ordered  a halt,  warn- 
ing them  that  they  would  perish,  should  they  not 
make  use  of  the  few  moments  of  light  that  were  left 
to  secure  themselves  for  the  night.  Fortunately 
every  one  yielded  to  him.  The  horses  were  turned 
loose,  the  snow  was  cleared  away  from  a large 
space  of  ground,  which  was  forthwith  covered  with 
buffalo-skins,  and  the  largest  sleigh  in  the  train 
placed  inverted  upon  them.  The  whole  company, 
with  the  exception  of  my  friend,  crawled  beneath 
this  shelter,  while  he  remained  outside  and  covered 
up  the  box  with  snow,  shovelling  it  on  with  a piece 
of  board.  This  exercise — which  alone  saved  his 
life,  while  it  ensured  the  safety  of  theirs — he  con- 
tinued till  morning,  when  some  of  the  horses  having 
found  their  way  into  the  settlements,  the  people 
came  out  and  led  the  company  to  their  homes. 
During  the  same  spell  of  weather,  if  not  on  the 
same  night,  two  wagoners  and  some  oxen  were 
frozen  on  the  prairie,  farther  down  the  country,  on 
a route  which  I have  since  passed.  There  were 
three  of  them  in  company,  each  with  a team,  con- 
veying goods  to  some  point  on  the  Illinois.  Finding 
their  oxen  gradually  becoming  stiff  with  cold,  they 
determined  to  leave  them  and  hurry  on  to  a house. 
One  of  the  three  gave  out  before  they  had  gone 
many  miles,  and  his  companions  buried  him  in  a 
snow-bank;  the  second  sank  down  on  the  road; 
and  the  third  only  succeeded  in  reaching  a house 
and  saving  his  life.  Part  of  the  load  of  these  poor 


54  SUNNY  LANDSCAPE. 

fellows  consisted  of  blankets,  which,  had  they 
known  it,  might  have  saved  them.  The  incident 
struck  me  when  told  near  the  spot  on  a cold  day, 
though  not  so  much  as  a similar  story  which  I 
heard  when  I first  came  upon  the  grand  prairie  in 
Indiana.  It  related  to  the  fate  of  an  emigrant  who 
attempted  to  cross  a broad  arm  of  the  prairie  with 
his  family,  in  an  open  wagon,  on  a very  cold  day. 
They  were  found  stiff  in  the  road,  the  horses  frozen 
in  their  traces,  and  standing  upright,  as  if  petrified, 
and  the  man  leaning  against  the  wagon,  with  a 
fragment  torn  from  it  in  his  hands,  as  if  in  the  act 
of  trying  to  make  a fire.  The  mother  sat  erect, 
with  an  infant  in  her  arms ; but  the  children  were 
curled  about  her  feet  in  every  position  that  an 
attempt  to  skreen  themselves  from  the  cruel  expo- 
sure could  suggest. 

But  these  stories,  of  which  I could  tell  you  a 
hundred,  begin  now  to  lose  their  effect,  as,  with 
the  gradual  opening  of  spring,  I find  myself  ap- 
proaching a milder  region.  The  last  day’s  travel 
has  led  along  those  sunny  bottoms  of  the  Illinois, 
where,  even  at  this  early  season,  the  chattering  of 
the  paroquet  may  be  heard  upon  every  side ; and 
here  and  there  I have  been  delighted  to  observe  a 
tender  green  stealing  over  those  sheltered  meadows 
beneath  the  retreating  banks  of  the  river,  whose 
narrow  limits  and  basin-like  appearance  answer  so 
completely  to  my  preconceived  ideas  of  a prairie. 
The  Illinois;  about  thirty  miles  above  this  point, 
expands  into  a fine  lake,  upon  the  banks  of  which 
Peoria  is  situated.  The  site  is  one  of  the  prettiest 


FERTILE  SOIL. 


55 


for  a town  that  I ever  saw.  The  approach  to  it  is 
through  alternate  prairies  and  richly  wooded  bot- 
toms, that  fringe  the  lake  with  a vegetation  of  stu- 
pendous growth,  and  give  glimpses  of  its  sparkling 
waters  and  blue  islets  through  festoons  of  vines 
overhanging  the  road  for  miles  continuously.  It 
must  in  summer  be  a scene  of  fairy  land. 

Peoria  is  about  the  geographical  centre  of,  Illi- 
nois, though  by  no  means  .as  yet  the  centre  of  popu- 
lation, which  is  still  far  to  the  south-east.  This 
place  is  rapidly  improving,  and  may  very  possibly 
become  the  future  seat  of  government.  It  has  in- 
exhaustible quantities  of  bituminous  coal  in  its  vi- 
cinity, and  commands  an  unbroken  steamboat  navi- 
gation with  St.  Louis.  The  adjacent  country  is 
very  fertile.  The  soil,  like  that  of  Illinois  gene- 
rally, is  better  suited  to  the  grazier  than  the  agri- 
culturist. It  is  composed  of  a black  and  rich 
mould,  with  a small  admixture  of  fine  silicious  sand, 
and  rests  on  soft  and  permeable  clay  without  being 
interspersed  with  stone  or  gravel.  This  formation, 
while  it  is  unfavourable  to  the  existence  of  perennial 
streams  and  fountains,  and  impedes  the  plough  of 
the  agriculturist,  and  endangers  his  health  by  the 
creation  of  miasma,  yet  in  the  vicinity  of  the  middle 
lands  furnishes  inexhaustible  meadows  to  the  gra- 
zier, and  every  facility  for  canals  and  railroads. 
The  Illinois  River  was  described  by  General  G.  B. 
Clark  so  long  ago  as  1777,  as  “a  natural  canal 
passing  through  natural  meadows;”  and  the  facility 
with  which  branches  might  be  made  as  the  country 
requires  them  is  now  very  apparent.  The  route  of 


56 


PROPOSED  CANAL. 


the  proposed  canal  (of  which  I have  before  spoken), 
to  connect  the  waters  of  Lake  Superior  with  those 
of  the  Gulf  of  Mexico,  by  a communication  of  only 
one  hundred  miles,  commences  at  a point  on  the 
Chicago  River,  five  miles  above  its  mouth,  where 
the  water  is  twelve  feet  deep,  and  on  a level  with 
Lake  Michigan ; thence  seven  miles  and  a half  to 
the  summit  level,  which  is  seventeen  feet  above  the 
surface  of  Lake  Michigan,  and  five  feet  nine  inches 
above  the  Des-Plaine : thence  (for  only  a ship- 
canal)  down  the  valley  of  the  Des-Plaine  and  Illi- 
nois, about  ninety  miles,  with  one  hundred  and 
seventy-five  feet  descent  to  the  mouth  of  the  Little 
Vermillion,  four  miles  below  the  rapids  of  the  Illi- 
nois River;  at  which  point  that  stream  is  navigable 
for  steam-boats  at  all  seasons.* 

Ten  years  and  40,000  dollars  have  now  been 
spent  upon  this  work,  and  not  a shovelful  of  earth, 
so  far  as  I can  learn,  is  yet  removed  from  the  soil. 
Let  the  New- York  merchants  step  in  and  make  it, 
and  the  warehouses  of  Buffalo  will  be  to  St.  Louis 
what  those  of  New-Orleans  are  at  present.  New- 
York  will  have  the  whole  trade  of  the  Mississippi 
Valley,  and  the  vast  regions  of  the  Missouri  will  be 
tributary  to  her  market.  A canal-boat  that  can 
navigate  the  lakes  may  then  clear  at  New-York,  and 
discharge  her  cargo  at  a trading-post  on  the  Yellow 
Stone.  Such  a canal  would  be  to  this  Union  what 
a cut  through  the  Isthmus  of  Darien  would  be  to 
the  world:  the  one  would  draw  St.  Louis  as  near  to 
New-York  as  the  other  would  India  to  Europe.  It 

* See  note  P. 


STATE  OF  ILLINOIS. 


5? 


would  be  well  indeed  that  government  should  make 
it ; but  the  means  required  are  so  slight  in  com- 
parison with  those  invested  in  a hundred  similar 
works,  in  different  parts  of  the  country,  as  to  bring 
it  easily  within  the  limits  of  individual  enterprise. 
The  State  of  Illinois,  judging  from  the  progress 
already  made,  will  not  complete  the  canal  for  half 
a century  to  come.  The  want  of  capital  is  here  so 
great  as  almost  to  seal  up  each  outlet  for  enterprise, 
though  they  present  themselves  on  every  side ; and 
our  eastern  capitalists  are  so  completely  ignorant 
of  the  prodigious  resources  of  this  region  that  it 
may  be  long  before  the  defect  is  supplied.  \Vere 
the  people  in  our  rich  eastern  cities  more  familiar 
with  even  the  geographical  relations  of  this  extra- 
ordinary region,  I am  convinced  that  more  than  one 
company  would  be  formed  that  would  be  eager  to 
purchase  from  the  State  of  Illinois,  at  a handsome 
premium,  the  right  of  making  the  canal,  and  hold- 
ing it  in  joint-stock  for  a term  of  years. 


VOL,  II  — F 


58 


PRAIRIE  ON  FIRE. 


LETTER  XXV. 

- 

Prairie  on  Fire — Colonels — Aspect  of  the  Country — Rich  Sa- 
vannas— Lower  Prairies — Population — Deserted  Village — The 
Missouri. 

St.  Louis,  March  9,  1834. 

Here  I am,  safely  at  last  in  the  renowned  city  of 
San’  Louis.  Our  route  from  Peoria,  by  the  way 
of  the  flourishing  towns  of  Springfield,  Jackson- 
ville,* and  Alton,  through  the  small  meadow-like 
and  half-cultivated  prairies  of  Lower  Illinois,  was 
very  agreeable.  I believe  I have  not  mentioned, 
that  before  getting  into  this  fair  and  comparatively 
populous  region,  I had  the  pleasure,  while  crossing 
one  prairie  of  considerable  extent,  of  seeing  it  on 
fire  on  every  side  around  me.  The  hour  was  near 
midnight,  and  the  spectacle  was  magnificent  beyond 
description.  An  illustration  by  Westall’s  pencil  of 
the  Rich  Man  in  the  Burning  Lake,  which  I have 
seen  somewhere,  would  give  as  near  an  idea  of  the 
scene  as  the  painter’s  art  could  convey.  In  one 
place  the  prairie  presented  exactly  the  appearance 
of  a broad  burning  pool,  in  others  the  flames  swelled 
up  like  seas  of  fire,  rolling  the  liquid  element  in 
solid  columns  over  the  land  ; and  then,  like  the 
waves  of  the  sea  itself,  when  they  break  upon  the 

* See  note  E. 


COLONELS. 


59 


shore,  a thousand  forked  tongues  of  flame  would 
project  themselves  far  beyond  the  broken  mass,  and 
greedily  lick  up  the  dry  aliment  that  lay  before 
them.  Our  horses  did  not  seem  to  mind  the  pheno- 
menon at  all,  and  we  drove  so  near  to  the  fire  as  to 
feel  the  heat  very  sensibly.  But  though  we  proba- 
bly incurred  no  danger,  it  was  almost  startling,  at 
times,  to  see  a wall  of  fire  as  high  as  our  horses’ 
ears,  in  some  places,  stretching  along  the  road-side, 
while  the  flames  would  shoot  to  the  height  of  twenty 
feet  or  more  when  a gust  of  wind  would  sweep  the 
prairie. 

We  had  an  accession  of  ij)ur  or  five  passengers 
at  Jacksonville,  a very  pretty  and  flourishing  look- 
ing place ; and  I was  not  a little  amused  to  find, 
that  out  of  six  persons  in  the  stage  we  had  fpur 
colonels  ; and  when  we  chanced  to  stop  at  a tavern, 
where  I saw  a cartridge-box  and  a musket  over  the 
mantelpiece,  I could  not  help  remarking  aloud,  that 
it  was  the  first  symptom  of  the  existence  of  a pri- 
vate I had  seen  in  the  country.  Some  of  the  colo- 
nels looked  a little  sour,  and  the  jest  might  not 
have  passed  off  as  easily  as  I could  have  wished  it, 
had  not  my  friend,  who  was  also  a colonel,  entered 
my  name  on  the  tavern-register  by  the  same  distin- 
guished , title,  which,  I presume,  qualified  me  to 
speak  a little  ad  libitum  of  militia  deeds  of  arms. 

The  character  of  the  country  between  Peoria  and 
Alton,  where  you  first  strike  the  Mississippi,  is 
much  the  same  as  that  described  in  the  previous 
part  of  this  letter.  The  prairies  are  smaller  and 
more  fertile-looking  than  in  the  upper  country ; 


60 


ASPECT  OF  THE  COUNTRY. 


and  when  not  under  cultivation,  resemble  what  at 
the  North  are  called  “ river  -flats”  or  natural  mea- 
dows. While  on  the  immense  plateaux  or  steppes 
which  form  the  prairies  of  the  north-western  part  of 
this  state,  on  this  side  of  Rock  River,  I described 
the  occasional  tracts  of  woodland  to  you  as  occupy- 
ing generally  the  hollows  and  ravines  of  those  in- 
terminable plains,  and  thus  rendering  preposterous 
a favourite  surmise  of  some  philosophers,  who 
would  have.it  that  the  prairies  are  the  deserted  beds 
of  lakes,  from  whose  waters  the  existing  groves 
once  reared  themselves  as  islands.  Jn  the  districts 
which  I have^traverseji  latterly,  however,  the  wood- 
land, being  generally  higher  than  the  prairie,  gives 
a degree  of  reasonableness  to  the  supposition ; and, 
indeed,  where  the  new  grass  has  begun  to  show  it- 
self in  these  shallow  basins,  one  could  almost  sup- 
pose that  some  freakish  power,  more  than  mortal — 
such  as  Ovid  loved  to  sing— had  been  at  work  meta- 
morphosing the  unstable  waters  into  lakes  of  ver- 
dure. These  rich  savannas  are  in  some  places  so 
sheltered  by  the  lofty  forests  around  them,  that  the 
cold  winds  have  but  little  play ; and  to  no  lovelier 
spots  can  spring  make  her  first  visits  than  to  the 
beautiful  groves  which  repose  here  and  there  over 
their  bosom ; and  even  now,  when  the  snow-tracks 
of  winter  are  hardly  yet  melted  away, — 

11  Zefiro  torna  e’l  bel  tempo  rimena, 

E i fiori  e 1’herbe.” — 

I could  now,  although  I confess  a fire  is  still  not 
uncomfortable,  almost  realize  the  grateful  and  glow- 
ing pictures  of  the  summer  prairies  by  Judge  Hall’s 


LOWER  PRAIRIES. 


61 


pencil ; — the  fresh  grass  rolled  out  into  a verdant 
lake,,  with  the  points  of  woodland  making  into  it 
like  so  many  capes  and  promontories,  and  the 
clumps  of  trees  studding  its  bosom  like  islands ; 
here  the  broad  reaches  of  natural  meadow  land 
striking  far  into  the  forest  like  the  friths  of  this 
grassy  sea,  and  there  a mass  of  heavy  timber,  like 
a bold  headland,  breaking  its  surface.  The  effect 
of  first  entering  upon  a prairie  in  summer  is  said  to 
be  equally  novel  and  delightful ; and  the  change 
from  gloom  to  sunshine,  from  the  closeness  of  a 
forest  where  a woodman’s  axe  has  never  rung  to 
the  broad  and  free  range  of  those  delicious  plains, 
impresses  one  like  passing  from  a desert  to  a gar- 
den. In  the  words  of  Judge  Hall. — “ There  is  an 
air  of  civilization  about  them  that  wins  the  heart.” 
These  lower  prairies,  however, — though  certainly 
more  beautiful  in  their  conformation  than  the  im- 
mense plains  of  the  upper-  country,  where  the  sun 
rises  and  sets  upon  either  extremity,  as  upon  the 
ocean  itself — do  not  yet,  I think,  compare  with  the 
romantic  tracts  beyond  Rock  River,  and  west  of 
Lake  Michigan  ; — where  meadows,  and  groves  and 
rocky  hills,  and  bright  streams  are  all  so  richly  in- 
termingled. It  was  only  in  passing  through  this 
latter  region — which  will  form  part  of  the  new  ter- 
ritory of  Wisconsan — that  I regretted  the  season  of 
the  year  did  not  allow  me  to  see  the  country  in  its 
full  beauty.  True,  indeed,  I suffered  much  from 
cold  in  crossing  the  larger  prairies  to  reach  those 
remote  districts  ; but  I am  persuaded  that  the  larger 
prairies  can  never  be  seen  to  greater  advantage  than 

f 2 


62 


POPULATION. 


I beheld  them.  Their  essential  characteristics  are 
grandeur  and  loneliness;  and  these  can  in  no  way 
be  so  much  heightened  as  by  the  garb  of  winter; 
nor  would  I — as  my  fleet  sleigh  skimmed  over  their 
savage  wastes,  and  I inhaled  a breeze  that  lent  new 
life  and  vigour  to  every  nerve — have  exchanged  the 
singular  but  joyous  excitement  for  all  the  charms 
that  spring’s  green  vesture  or  summer’s  balmy  airs 
could  impart  to  those  magnificent  solitudes. 

The  population  of  the  country  through  which  I 
have  passed  within  the  last  few  days,  is  of  a mixed 
character.  Some  are  Quakers  from  Pennsylvania, 
surrounded  by  the  necessaries  and  comforts  of  life  ; 
others  are  miserable-looking  beings  from  North 
Carolina  and  Tennessee,  indolent  and  thriftless,  liv- 
ing from  year  to  year  in  rude,  hastily  built  log-huts, 
with  blankets  huns  athwart  the  entrances  instead  of 

o 

doors.  At  Alton  the  neat  white  houses,  tasteful 
piazzas,  neat  enclosures,  and  newly  planted  shrub- 
beries, gave  sure  indications  of  New  England  peo- 
ple. The  English  settlers,  I am  told,  wherever 
they  have  established  themselves  in  Illinois,  mani- 
fest still  superior  style  of  living,  and  greater  atten- 
tion to  comfort  and  convenience.  Both  here  and  in 
Michigan  they  are  universally  spoken  of  with  re- 
spect and  affection,  but  1 missed  all  their  settle- 
ments by  passing  to  the  west  of  them. 

A few  miles  below  Alton,  on  the  Mississippi,  I 
passed  a deserted  village,  the  whole  population  of 
which  had  been  destroyed  by  the  “ milk-sickness.”* 


* A fatal  spasmodic  disease,  peculiar,  I believe,  to  the  Valley  of 


DESERTED  VILLAGE. 


63 


The  hamlet  consisted  of  a couple  of  mills  and  a 
number  of  frame  houses,  not  one  of  which  was  now 
tenanted,  but  all  silent  and  abandoned.  Dry  weeds 
overran  the  thresholds  and  whistled  to  the  wind,  the 
raceways  of  the  mills  were  choked  with  drift  wood, 
and  their  motionless  wheels  were  cumbered  with 
the  green  slime  of  two  idle  summers.  Not  a living 
object  moved  about  the  place ; the  thickly  sown  bu- 
rial* ground  told  the  fate  of  its  inhabitants ; the  very 
crows  seemed  to  make  a circuit  and  avoid  this  de- 
serted \illage. 

We  were  now  on  the  famous  “ American  bot- 
tom and  I was  really  astonished  at  the  prodigious 
size  of  the  trees,  and  the  magnificent  vegetation 
which  this  region  displays ; but  the  scattered  in- 
habitants looked  far  from  healthy.  At  Alton  we 
struck  the  Mississippi : the  view  from  its  bluffs  is 
here  magnificent,  though  I think  that  Flint’s  fervid 
pen  has  done  it  full  justice.*  A few  miles  below 

the  Mississippi.  It  first  attacks  the  cattle,  and  then  those  who  eat 
beef  or  drink  milk. 

* “ Opposite  the  mouth  of  the  Missouri,  the  American  bottom 
terminates,  and  the  bluffs  come  into  the  river.  The  blufis  bound 
the  eastern  bank  of  the  river  thence  to  the  mouth  of  the  Illinois. 
From  these  bluffs  we  contemplate  one  of  the  most  impressive  and 
beautiful  landscapes  in  the  world.  On  the  opposite  side  the  mighty 
Missouri  is  seen  bringing  its  turbid  and  sweeping  mass  of  waters 
at  right  angles  to  the  Mississippi.  The  eye  traces  a long  distance 
of  the  outline  of  the  Missouri  Valiev,  bounded  on  either  side  with 
an  indistinct  and  blue  line  of  hills ; above  it  is  the  vast  and  most 
beautiful  Mamelle  prairie,  dotted  with  green  islands  of  wood,  and 
skirted  at  the  farthest  ken  of  the  eye  with  hills  and  forests.  Above 
you  on  the  same  shore  is  the  valley  of  the  Illinois,  itself  bounded  by 
heavy  and  magnificent  bluffs  of  a peculiar  character.  The  river 
brings  in  its  creeping  waters  by  a deep  bed.  that  seems  almost  as 


64 


MOUTH  OF  THE  MISSOURI. 


we  passed  the  mouth  of  the  Missouri,  where  its 
white  and  turbid  current  could  be  seen  rushing  in 
among  the  islands,  and  staining  the  limpid  tide  of 
the  “ father  of  rivers”  far  down  the  western  shore, 
while  for  twenty  miles  below  that  clear  stream  still 
preserved  its  purity  on  the  eastern  side.  Surely 
Father  Hennepin  was  mistaken  when  he  called  the 
streams  above  and  below  the  Missouri  by  the  same 
name!  For  the  Upper  Mississippi,  except  in*its 
breadth  and  volume  of  water,  bears  but  little  re- 
semblance to  the  lower  river ; while  the  Missouri, 
as  it  tears  through  its  muddy  banks  to  drink  that 
beautiful  tide,  soon  gives  its  own  turbulent  character 
to  the  whole  stream  below,  and  even  impresses  its 
peculiar  features  upon  the  gulf  in  which  it  at  last 
loses  itself. 

It  was  too  late  in  the  evening  to  cross  when  we 
arrived  opposite  to  St.  Louis,  and  I amused  my- 
self before  retiring  for  the  night  in  listening  to  the 
sound  of  the  church-bells — the  first  I had  heard  in 
many  a month — and  watching  the  lights  as  they 
danced  along  the  lines,  of  the  dusky  city,  and  were 

straight  as  a canal.  You  have  in  view  the  valleys  and  bhiflfs  of 
two  noble  streams,  that  join  their  waters  to  the  Mississippi.  You 
see  the  Mississippi  changed  to  a turbid  and  sweeping  stream,  with 
jagged  and  indented  hanks  below  you.  You  see  its  calm  and  placid 
waters  above  the  Missouri.  On  the  opposite  prairie  there  are  level 
meadows,  wheat-fields,  corn-fields— smoke  ascending  from  houses 
and  cabins — vast  flocks  of  domestic  cattle — distinct  indications  of 
agriculture  and  improvement  blended. with  the  grand  features  of 
nature.  There  are  clumps  of  trees,  lakes,  ponds,  and  flocks  of  sea- 
fowl  wheeling  their  flight  over  them ; in  short,  whatever  of  gran- 
deur or  beauty  nature  can  furnish  to  soothe  and  to  enrapture  tho 
beholder.” — Flin  t’s  Valley  of  the  Mississippi,  Page  96. 


ST*.  LOUIS. 


65 


reflected  in  the  dark  rolling  river.  We  crossed  in 
time  for  breakfast,  and  I am  how  tolerably  establish- 
ed at  the  best  hotel  in  the  place, 


LETTER  XXVI. 

St.  Louis — Ancient  Mounds — 'Population  of  St.  Louis — Scalp- 
ing Amateurs — Savage  Deeds — Desperate  Situation — War-party. 

St.  Louis,  Missouri,  March  15th,  1834. 

You  last  left  me  in  the  ancient  city  of  St.  Louis, 
the  capital  and  metropolis,  though  not  yet  the  com- 
mercial emporium,  of  the  grand  valley  of  the  Mis- 
sissippi,— once  the  ultima  Thule  of  western  ad- 
venture, and  still  the  depot  of  the  fur-trade  and 
bureau  of  Indian  affairs.  Here,  the  Spaniard,  the 
Frenchman,  and  the  American  have  in  turn  held 
rule,  and  their  blood,  with  no  slight  sprinkling  of 
that  of  the  aborigines,  now  commingles  in  the  veins 
of  its  inhabitants. 

The  aspect  of  the  town  .partakes  of  the  charac- 
teristics of  all  its  original  possessors : in  one  sec- 
tion you  find  the  broad  steep-roofed  stone  edifices 
of  the  French,  with  the  Spaniard’s  tall  stuccoed 
dwelling  raising  its  tiers  of  open  corridors  above 
them,  like  a once  showy  but  half  defaced  galleon 
in  a fleet  of  battered  frigates;  while  another  will 
present  you  only  with  the  clipper-built  brick  houses 
of  the  American  residents, — light  as  a Baltimore 


66 


ST.  LOUIS 


schooner,  and  pert-looking  as  a Connecticut  smack. 
The  town,  which  is  situated  about  eighteen  miles 
below  the  mouth  of  the  Missouri,  lies  on  two 
plateaux,  extending  along  the  Mississippi  for  some 
miles.  The  first  of  these  steppes  rises  gently  from 
the  water,  till,  at  the  distance  of  about  a hundred 
yards,  it  becomes  perfectly  level,  and  affords  a fine 
plane  for  the  main  street  of  the  place,  which  runs 
parallel  to  the  river.  An  acclivity,  rather  longer 
and  steeper,  then  intervenes,  when  the  second  pla- 
teau commences,  and  runs  back  a perfectly  "level 
plain,  extending  for  miles  in  every  direction.  This 
plain,  near  the  town,  is  covered  with  shrub  oaks 
and  other  undergrowth ; but  it  finally  assumes  the 
character  of  a. naked  prairie,  which  probably,  at  no 
very  distant  time,  extended  here  to  the  banks  of  the 
Mississippi. 

That  part  of  the  town  immediately  upon  the 
river  is  built,  in  a great  measure,  on  a rock  that 
lies  a few  feet  beneath  the  surface  of  the  soil ; the 
stone  excavated  in  digging  the  cellars  affording  a 
fine  material  for  the  erection  of  some  substantial 
warehouses  that  line  the  wharf.  The  site,  for  a 
great  city,  apart  from  its  admirable  geographical 
position,  is  one  of  the  finest  that  could  be  found ; 
and  having  been  laid  out  of  late  years  in  modern 
style,  with  broad  rectangular  streets,  St.  Louis 
will,  however  it  may  increase  in  size,  always  be 
an  airy,  cheerful  looking  place.  But  its  streets 
command  no  interesting  prospects,  and  indeed  the 
town  has  nothing  of  scenic  beauty  in  its  position, 
unless  viewed  from  beneath  the  boughs  of  the 


ANCIENT  MOUNDS. 


67 


immense  trees  on  the  alluvial  bottom  opposite, 
when  the  whitewashed  walls  and  gray  stone  para- 
pets of  the  old  French  houses  present  rather  a 
romantic  appearance.  The  most  interesting  ob- 
jects at  St.  Louis  are  several  of  those  singular 
ancient  mounds,  which,  commencing  in  the  western 
part  of  the  State  of  New-York,  and  reaching,  as 
Humftoldt  tells  us,  to  the  interior  of  Mexico,  have 
so  entirely  set  at  nought  the  ingenuity  of  the  an- 
tiquary. The  mounds  in  the  north  suburb  of  St. 
Louis  occupy  a commanding  position  on  the  Mis- 
sissippi, and  cover  ground  enough  for  a large  body 
of  men  to  encamp  upon.  They  stand  distinct  from 
each  other,  generally  in  the  form  of  truncated 
pyramids,  with  a perfect  rectangular  base ; at  one 
point  four  or  five  tumuli  are  so  grouped  together  as 
to  form  nearly  two  sides  of  a square,  while  at 
another,  several  hundred  yards  off,  two  or  more 
detached  mounds  rise  -singly  from  the  plain.  The 
summit  of  one  of  these  is  occupied  by  a public 
reservoir,  for  furnishing  the  town  with  water;  the 
supply  is  forced  up  to  the  tank  by  a steam  engine 
on  the  banks  of  the  river,  and  subsequently  distri- 
buted by  pipes  throughout  the  city.  This  mound, 
with  the  exception  of  one  or  two  enclosed  within 
the  grounds  of  General  Ashley,  is  the  only  one 
fenced  from  the  destruction  that  always  sooner  or 
later  overtakes  such  non-productive  property,  when 
in  the  suburbs  of  a rapidly  growing  city.  It  is  a 
subject  of  surprise  that,  considering  the  want  of 
public  squares  in  the  town,  individual  taste  and 
public  spirit  do  not  unite  to  preserve  these  beautiful 


68 


POPULATION  OF  ST.  LOUIS. 


eminences  in  their  exact  forms,  and  connect  them 
by  an  enclosure,  with  shrubbery  and  walks,  thus 
forming  a promenade  that  might  be  the  pride  of  St. 
Louis.  The  prettily  cultivated  gardens  in  the 
environs,  and  the  elegance  and  costliness  of  more 
than  one  private  dwelling  in  the  heart  of  the  town, 
evince  that  neither  taste  nor  means  are  wanting  to 
suggest  and  carry  into  effect  such  an  improvement. 

I am  so  little  of  an  adept  at  estimating  measure- 
ments, that  I will  not  attempt  to  guess  at  the  size 
of  these  mounds : they  are  much  the  largest  that  I 
have  yet  seen ; but  none  of  them  can  compare  with 
the  immense  parallelogram  near  Cahokia,  in  Illinois, 
which  Mr.  Flint  describes  as  eight  hundred  yards 
in  circumference,  and  ninety  feet  in  height— one 
side  of  it  alone  affording  a terraced  garden  for  the 
monks  of  La  Trappe,  who  had  a monastery  among 
the  group  of  two  hundred  tumuli  around* 

The  population  of  St.  Louis  may  be  estimated  at 
seven  or  eight  thousand ; and  there  are  four  or  five 
churches  and  a noble  cathedral  belonging  to  the 
different  religious  persuasions*  The  inhabitants 
derive  their  wealth  from  the  rich  lead  mines  of 
their  own  state,  and  from  the  trade  of  the  Upper 
Mississippi,  the  Missouri,  and  the  Illinois*  The 
burthensome  steam-boats  from  New-Orleans  reach 
here  at  the  lowest  stage  of  the  river ; and  here  you 
may  see  river  craft  of  every  shape  and  form,  from 
the  thousand  boatable  tributaries  of  the  Mississippi) 
clustering  around  the  wharfs* 

In  no  town  of  the  west  do  you  find  such  a variety 
of  people  and  character  as  in  St*  Louis ; and  here, 


SCALPING  AMATEURS. 


69 


in  fact,  only,  where  more  than  one  “last  of  the 
boatmen”  still  lingers,  have  you  an  opportunity  of 
studying  that  singular  class  of  beings  the  engages 
(as  they  are  called)  of  the  fur  trade — fellows  that 
talk  of  a trip  to  the  Rocky  Mountains  as  you  would 
speak  of  a turn  on  the  Battery ; and  think  as  much 
of  an  Indian  encounter,  as  a city  blood  does  of  a 
“ spree”  with  a watchman. 

In  passing  through  the  bar-room  of  the  hotel  last 
night,  I overheard  a couple  of  coarse  featured  but 
respectably  dressed  men,  gossiping  over  a glass  of 
punch  in  the  chimney  corner.  “ Oh,  I remember 
him  well,”  were  the  first  words  I caught — “you 
slapped  him  over  with  your  rifle,  and  I took  the  fel- 
low’s hair.” — “No,  no,”  rejoined  the  other;  “that 
wras  the  long-locked  fellow,  whose  crown  you  used 
to  wear  about  so  long  afterward  ; I mean  the 
second  chap,  that  would  have  been  too  many  for  me 
after  I had  struck  my  leg  knife*  into  the  chine  of 
the  other,  if  your  hatchet  hadn’t  done  for  him  when 
my  rifle  missed  fire.” — “ Ah,  yes,”  replied  his  com- 
panion, smacking  his  lips,  as  he  sipped  his  vapoury 
poteen  ; “ you  mean  the  red  devil  that  begged  so  on 
the  bank,  when  I took  his  hair,  and  left  him  to  curl 
up  and  die.”  One  or  two  more  scalping  amateurs 
soon  joined  in  this  tender  discourse  on  love  locks ; 
and  I cannot  now,  from  the  general  conversation 
that  ensued,  recall  the  numerous  other  touching 
expressions  and  philanthropic  sentiments  that  struck 

* Worn  beneath  the  garter  of  the  leggin,  and  carried  in  addition 
to  the  larger  knife  which  the  western  hunter  always  wears  in  his 
girdle. 

VOL.  II. G 


70 


SAVAGE  DEEDS. 


m*e  as  worthy  of  preservation.  But  observing  that 
some  of  the  speakers  were  dreadfully  mutilated,  I 
was  induced  to  inquire  in  another  quarter  whether 
or  not  their  misfortunes  were  connected  with  the 
savage  deeds  I had  heard  so  coolly  related : they 
had,  each  of  them,  I learned,  signalized  themselves 
in  Indian  warfare.  You-  would  be  incredulous, 
were  you  to  hear  their  various  intolerable  sufferings 
and  perilous  escapes  detailed.  One  of  the  number, 
particularly,  who  went  about  on  crutches,  had  been 
so  badly  wounded  in  one  encounter  with  the  Black- 
feet  Indians,  that  after  being  carried  some  distance 
by  his  companions,  they  were  compelled  to  leave 
him  to  his  fate,  as  one  wholly  unable  to  assist  him- 
self, and  consequently  too  great  an  encumbrance  to 
them.  The  bones  of  his  ankle  had  been  badly 
shattered,  and  before  parting  with  his  comrades  he 
insisted  upon  one  of  them  amputating  his  foot. 
Having  no  surgical  instrument,  they  all  shrank  from 
the  butchering  task ; and  the  intrepid  hunter  then 
went  to  work  on  himself  with  his  wood-knife.  The 
rfoot  was  severed,  and  the  actual  cautery  being  ap- 
plied with  a red  hot  tomahawk  by  one  of  those 
present,  the  patient  found  himself  somewhat  easier. 
But  his  friends  were  too  hard  pressed  by  the  hostile 
bands  to  wait  until  he  should  be  fit  to  travel : they 
thought,  indeed,  he  would  never  recover ; and  they 
were  compelled  to  leave  him  to  his  fate.  One  of 
the  company,  however,  consented  to  remain  for  a 
few  days,  in  order  to  bury  the  wounded  man,  and 
sufficient  food  for  a week  was  placed  in  a wigwam 
by  the  river  side. 


9 


DESPERATE  SITUATION. 


71 


The  resolute  patient,  instead  of  dying,  grew 
daily  better,  and  (the  horses  of  the  party  having 
been  long  since  stolen  or  devoured)  his  companion 
became  alarmed  lest  he  should  be  saddled  with  his 
maimed  charge  all  the  way  back  to  the  settlements ; 
he  was  wretch  enough  to  seize  upon  the  little  pro- 
vision left,  and  leave  his  hapless  comrade  alone  to 
perish — that  is,  to  die  of  hunger,  if  not  previously 
taken  and  tortured  to  death  by  the  Indians.  The 
condition  then  of  the  deserted  man  was  bad  enough 
to  appal  even  a western  hunter.  He  was  suffering 
under  a violent  fever,  and  I heard  him  myself  de- 
scribe the  agony  it  cost  him,  in  this  condition,  to 
drag  his  recently  maimed  limb  down  the  steep 
bank  of  a river,  as  he  crawled  there  a dozen  times  a 
day  for  a drink ; while,  fearing  to  remain  on  the 
shore  lest  a roving  savage  should  see  him,  he  would 
each  time  creep  up  the  acclivity  to  the  leafy  shel- 
ter afforded  on  the  top.  He  subsisted  on  the  wild 
grapes  and  berries  within  his  reach,  and,  these 
becoming  exhausted,  he  was  compelled  to  move 
from  the  spot.  This  exertion  made  him  aware  that 
he  had  still  some  ability  to  proceed ; and  knowing 
that  his  party,  now  more  than  a week’s  march 
ahead,  would  remain  encamped  at  a certain  point 
for  several  days,  the  determined  fellow  resolved  to 

follow  them.  This  he  effected.  His  friends  re- 

\ 

ceived  him  like  one  risen  from  the  dead,  for  the 
craven  that  abandoned  him  had  reported  that  he 
was  no  more  ; and  all  swore  to  carry  him  safely 
home. 

I overheard  a gentleman  this  morning  question^ 


72 


WAR  PARTY. 


ing  this  bold  backwoodsman  about  some  of  these 
details ; he  answered  modestly,  and  spoke  of  the 
horrors  of  his  situation,  when  languishing  on  the 
scorching  prairie,  with  the  same  sang-froid  that  I 
had  heard  him  mention  “ taking  the  hair”  of  a 
hostile  Indian.  There  were  two  young  savages 
from  the  Rocky  Mountain  neighbourhood — a Flat- 
head  and  a Nez-perce — standing  by  during  the 
conversation  last  night ; but  I believe  that  they  did 
not  understand  the  language  that  was  a vehicle  for 
so  many  amiable  sentiments. 

There  is  a good  deal  of  romantic  interest  in  the 
roving  and  precarious  life  of  the  borderers,  who 
carry  on  the  trade  in  which  these  men  were  en- 
gaged. The  Arab  proverb  of  the  African  desert — 
that  every  stranger  you  meet  there  is  an  enemy — 
may  with  equal  truth  be  said  of  the  wilds  of 
Northern  America.  The  more  remote  tribes  are 
in  an  almost  constant  state  of  warfare ; and  a soli- 
tary wanderer  among  them  must  look  principally 
to  his  rifle  for  protection. 

Two  well-armed  engages  are  said  to  be  a match 
for  any  three  Indians,  though  the  latter  are  no  des- 
picable antagonists.  The  appearances  of  some  of 
these  tribes,  when  on  a war-party,  must  be  singu- 
larly martial  and  picturesque.  Their  shirt  of  buff, 
gaily  beaded  with  wampum ; the  scarlet  leggins, 
fringed  with  porcupine-quills ; the  highly  orna- 
mented shooting  pouch,  and  rattling  collar  of 
polished  bears’  claws,  with  the  gay  sash  and  rich 
buffalo-robe ; and  above  all,  the  chivalric  scalplock, 
tufted  with  feathers — must  make  no  contemptible 


INDIAN  COUNCIL. 


73 


appearance  as  they  flaunt  over  the  green  prairie, 
and  attract  the  eye  to  the  horsemanship  of  many  a 
well-mounted  rider.  They  would  take  the  eye  of 
a painter;  and  have,  in  fact,  suggested  some  most 
spirited  sketches  to  Rindisbacher,  a highly  original 
artist  at  St.  Louis,  at  whose  rooms  I have  spent 
more  than  one  agreeable  hour. 


LETTER  XXVII. 


Indian  Council — The  Kickapoos — Misjudging  Policy — Propo- 
sed Policy — Frenchmen  and  Indians — Indians  and  Traders — Indian 
Theism — Indian  Faith — Indian  Character. 

St.  Louis,  March  14th,  1834. 

Yesterday  I had  an  opportunity  of  seeing  a 
remnant  of  a once  formidable  tribe,  the  Kickapoos, 
hold  a talk  with  the  venerable  General  Clarke,  the 
U.  S.  superintendent  of  Indian  affairs,  and  well 
known  to  you  from  the  valuable  work  entitled 
“ Lewis  and  Clarke’s  Travels,”  ’published  under 
the  auspices  of  government  twenty-five  years  since. 
I was  dining  at  the  honse  of  the  hospitable  veteran* 
who  lives  in  some  style  at  St.  Louis,  when  one  of 
the  clerks  of  his  department  summoned  him  to  the 
“ council-chamber.”  It  was  a moderate  sized 
room,  communicating  with  the  general’s  study  and 
his  public  office,  and  connected  with  the  library, 
and  with  the  street  by  a narrow  staircase.  The 

g 2 


74 


THE  KICKAPOOS. 


walls  of  the  apartment  were  completely  coated 
with  Indian  arms  and  dresses,  and  the  mantelpiece 
loaded  with  various  objects  of  curiosity  connected 
with  the  aborigines.  Among  the  latter  was  that 
celebrated  piece  of  pottery  that  has  caused  so  much 
idle  speculation  among  the  curious, — a small  vase 
formed  by  three  perfect  heads  blended  in  one,  the 
features  being  marked,  and  wholly  dissimilar  from 
those  of  any  existing  race  of  Indians.* 

The  Kickapoos,  a forlorn  looking  set,  were  sit- 
ting around  the  room  on  a bench  against  the  wall, 
their  swarthy  features  and  dingy  blankets  contrast- 
ing strikingly  enough  with  the  fair  brows  and  fa- 
shionable attire  of  the  ladies  who  glided  into  the 
council-room  as  we  moved  thither  from  the  dinner- 
table.  A little  gray-haired  French  interpreter  oc- 
cupied himself  in  lighting  a mock  tomahawk-pipe, 
formed  of  some  light  and  showy  metal,  as  the  gene- 
ral took  his  seat ; and  then  a large  and  elaborately 
carved  pipe  being  laid  like  an  ensign  of  office  on 
the  table  in  front  of  the  stately  old  officer,  the  talk 
began. 

As  there  was  nothing  in  it  that  may  not  be  found 
in  any  Indian  talk  of  the  last  fifty  years,  I made  no 
record  of  what  was  said.  It  contained  nothing  par- 
ticularly characteristic,  and  I was  only  struck  by  the 
mournful  appealing  tone  of  the  principal  Indian 
who  spoke  on  one  side,  and  the  air  of  sympathy 
and  paternal  kindness  which  the  general  preserved 
on  the  other.  The  application,  I believe,  was 


* See  note  F. 


PERNICIOUS  MEASURES* 


75 


merely  a begging  one,  and  he  promised  to  assist 
them. 

The  sight  of  such  a miserable  remnant  of  a tribe 
whose  name  you  will  find  on  maps  of  but  a recent 
date,  written  over  no  inconsiderable  portion  of  terri- 
tory, would  suggest  doubts  of  the  humanity  of  our 
Indian  policy;  and  yet,  as  much  as  that  policy  has 
been  abused,  I defy  those  most  active  in  casting 
opprobrium  to  point  to  an  act  relating  to  the  Indians 
in  the  statute  book  that  does  not  evince  that  our 
general  government,  since  it  had  an  existence,  has 
kept  the  intention  of  bettering  the  condition  of  the 
aborigines  continually  in  view.  The  United  States 
have  not  exercised  the  right  of  property  over  a foot 
of  ground  4hat  has  not  been  fairly  purchased,  nor 
has  an  Indian  been  removed  from  the  soil  acquired 
by  treaty  without  ample  provision,  so  far  as  money 
and  necessaries  are  concerned,  being  made  for  his 
present  comfort,  and  to  promote  his  advance  to- 
wards civilization.  How  then  has  our  national  po- 
licy proved  so  detrimental  to  the  Indian  ? Is  it  from 
the  measures  adopted  by  Congress,  or  the  manner 
in  which  they  are  carried  into  effect  ? I should  an- 
swer, both.  The  measures  themselves  are  perni- 
cious, and  the  manner  in  which  they  are  acted  upon 
fatal  to  the  Indian.  Tt  is  destructive  to  them  as  a 
people  to  remove  them  from  their  homes,  and  scatter 
them  among  hostile  tribes,  over  strange  hunting- 
grounds  ; and  it  is  destructive  to  them  individually 
by  keeping  them  continually  on  the  frontier,  and  in 
contact  only  with  the  most  lawless  portions  of  so- 
ciety—it  is  destructive,  too,  to  furnish  them  with 


76 


MISJUDGING  POLICY. 


the  means  of  idleness,  to  enrich  them  for  others  to 
prey  upon.  The  very  idea  of  giving  an  Indian 
money  when  there  is  nothing  but  whisky  for  him  to 
buy  with  it,  or  of  furnishing  him  with  cattle  and 
farming  utensils  when  surrounded  by  white  men 
who  live  by  their  rifles,  is  preposterous.  There 
might  be  some  hope  of  his  abandoning  the  hunter 
state,  and  gradually  turning  herdsman,  did  he,  girt 
in  by  a belt  of  civilization,  inhabit  some  mountain- 
ous district,  where  the  different  pursuits  of  his 
neighbours  would  prevent  collision,  and  the  broken- 
ness of  the  country  secure  it  from  their  cupidity. 
But  to  keep  the  native  for  ever  in  contact  with  the 
pioneer,  the  hereditary  enemy  of  three  centuries ! 
What  is  it  but  calling  the  butchers  of  Philip  of 
Pokanoket  from  the  dead  to  massacre  the  survivors 
of  his  race  ? 

So  much  for  our  well-meant  but  misjudging 
policy ; and  now  for  the  mode  of  carrying  it  into 
effect.  This,  I need  not  tell  you,  is  done  by  agents 
subordinate  to  a general  superintendent,  in  his  turn 
responsible  to  the  department  at  Washington.  These 
men,  where  the  military  at  our  extensive  outposts 
give  weight  to  their  authority,  and  where  high- 
minded  officers  and  well-disciplined  soldiers  are  the 
only  white  men  they  have  to*  deal  with,  may  exer- 
cise a useful  and  energetic  influence  in  those  remote 
districts : but  what  could  a United  States’  agent,  or 
what  could  the  commandant  of  a garrison  do  in  the 
northern  part  of  Illinois,  for  instance  ? Take  a case 
that  might  have  and  perhaps  has  occurred: — the 
agent*  in  an  Indian  difficulty  with  the  settlers,  ap-> 


DIFFICULT  CASE. 


77 


plies  to  the  governor  of  the  state  for  a militia  force 
to  protect  “ his  children,”  as  the  Indians  call  them- 
selves : the  governor,  knowing  that  nothing  would 
give  the  militia  more  pleasure  than  to  cut  the  throats 
of  the  Indians,  refuses  the  application,  and  refers 
the  agent  to  the  nearest  body  of  United  States’ 
troops  in  the  neighbourhood ; while  every  subaltern 
in  the  command  knows,  that  if  he  interferes  between 
an  Indian  and  a white  man,  he  will  be  sued  in- 
stantly in  the  courts  of  the  state.  When  I was  at 
Prairie  du  Chien,  there  were  several  of  the  officers 
who  had  been  cited  to  appear  in  court  for  having, 
pursuant  to  order,  removed  “ squatters”  from  the 
Indian  lands  over  the  Mississippi.  The  Indian  then 
despises  the  agent,  because  he  is  clothed  with  no 
military  authority ; and  the  pioneer  despises  the 
military,  because  their  hands  are  tied  by  the  local 
civil  power,  whatever  it  be. 

There  is  then,  you  may  imagine,  no  love  lost 
between  the  Indian  and  the  latter;  but  between 
the  Indian  and  the  soldier  a relation  every  way 
desirable  exists  : he  loves  and  fears  the  regulars, 
as  much  as  he  hates  and  despises  the  militia.  He 
knows  (whatever  the  newspapers  may  tell  you) 
that,  as  a general  rule,  it  is  the  former*  who  always 
chastises  him  in  battle  ; and  from  whom  alone  he 
may  expect  mercy  after  the  conflict  is  over. 

* If  the  writer  paused  while  making  this  remark  to  expatiate 
upon  the  digraceful  conduct  of  the  Illinois  militia  under  Stillman, 
in  the  late  Sauk  and  Fox  war,  he  could  not  fail  to  pay  a tribute  to 
the  brave  miners  who  followed  Dodge  and  other  leaders  of  the 
Wisconsan  country  against  Blackhawk. 


78 


HOOKING  FROM  UNCLE  SAM. 


The  slightest  intimation  of  the  will  of  a subal- 
tern, okemar , or  war-chief,  as  they  call  him,  is  law 
with  a red  man.  This  feeling,  on  their  part,  to 
my  mind  indicates  at  once  an  alteration  in  the  ad- 
ministration of  Indian  affairs, — it  is  to  make  the 
commandants  of  military  posts  ex  officio  Indian 
agents.  There  are  two  objections  to  this one  of 
which  is,  that  in  their  capacity  as  guardians  of  the 
Indian,  it  would  impose  a most  disagreeable  duty 
upon  the  officers,  from  the  frequent  collision  with 
the  citizens ; the  other  is,  that  it  would  cause  a 
great  outcry  among  the  innumerable  persons  on 
the  frontiers  employed  in  plundering  Indian  pro- 
perty, under  the  innocent  phrase  of  “ Hooking 
from  Uncle  Sam”  (whether  through  the  medium  of 
agencies,  land  treaties,  or  getting  up  an  Indian 
war  now  and  then,  “ by  way  of  having  some  go- 
vernment money  spent  in  the  country  ;”*)  to  have 
any  of  the  avenues  of  the  various  existing  kinds  of 
peculation  closed  against  them.  To  overcome 
these  objections,  I would  place  every  garrison  over 
the  border,— upon  territory  owned  only  by  the 
Indians  and  the  United  States ; and  I would  con- 
sider every  foot  of  that  territory  as  within  the  walls 
of  the  garrison.  The  whites  might  visit  it  as  they 
would  a fortress,  or  pass  through  it  as  they  would 

* The  Blackhawk  war, — the  principal  actor  of  which  avers 
that  he  went  over  the  Mississippi  merely  to  help  the  Winnebagoes 
make  com,  when  he  was  set  upon  by  the  whites, — some  people 
are  mischievous  enough  to  say,  was  got  up  by  a cabal  for  specula- 
tion. It  cost  government  two  millions.  It  is  a standing  joke  in 
Illinois  to  say  it  would  there  have  been  taken  by  contract  for  50,000 
dollars. 


PROPOSED  POLICY. 


T9 


cross  a draw-bridge  ; but  no  more.  The  distribu- 
tion of  goods,  if  any  took  place  among  the  Indians, 
should  be  made  by  the  sutler  of  the  post ; and  every 
treaty,  when  held,  should  be  held  only  at  Wash- 
ington. The  disgusting  scenes  of  swindling  and 
debauchery  witnessed  at  the  treaties  on  the  fron- 
tiers, unless  they  have  been  much  exaggerated  to 
me  by  those  who  boasted  a share  in  them,  are  a 
disgrace  to  the  nation. 

The  whole  drift  of  my  policy  would,  in  a few 
words,  be  merely  this  : — First,  to  keep  the  Indians 
in  contact  only  with  that  authority  which  they 
fully  acknowledge,  and  which,  as  they  never  wil- 
lingly provoke,  would  sit  but  lightly  upon  them. 
Secondly,  wdien  I brought  them  in  contact  with 
citizens  at  all, — which  in  holding  treaties  would 
occur,— to  surround  them  with  those  who,  like  the 
materials  of  which  the  army  is  chiefly  composed, 
are  actuated  by  none  of  the  prejudices,  feelings, 
and  habits  that  unavoidably  spring  up  among  the 
people  of  the  frontiers ; a people  whose  vices  are 
those  only  of  their  condition,  and  whose  virtues 
are  pre-eminently  their  own.*  I write  boldly,  and 
perhaps  unadvisedly,  upon  this  subject ; but  in  a 
case  where  so  many  regular  physicians  have  failed, 
it  is  allowable  for  an  empiric  to  prescribe.  It  is 
too  late  to  adopt  the  only  just  policy  of  preserving 
a portion  of  their  ancient  domains  to  the  tribes ; 
and  since  government  has  now  matured  its  plan  of 
collecting  their  scattered  remnants  into  one  com- 


* See  Letter  XXIV, 


80  FRENCHMEN  AND  INDIANS. 

mon  country,  I hope,  if  necessary  to  keep  the 
whites  away,  the  boundaries  may  bristle  with 
bayonets. 

How  strange  it  is  that— with  the  exception  of 
Penn’s  people — the  English  and  Americans  have 
never  been  able  to  live  upon  the  terms  with  the 
Indians  which  the  French  so  long,  and  apparently 
so  easily,  preserved.  I attribute  the  success  of  the 
latter  entirely  to  the  politeness  of  a Frenchman,  of 
whatever  class,  displaying  itself  alike  to  a savage 
or  a signor ; while  we  Americans  inherit  too  much 
of  that  feeling  from  the  English  which  prompts  us 
to  measure  out  our  good  breeding  according  to  the 
condition  of  those  with  whom  we  deal.  To  pro- 
mote the  kind  intercourse  of  the  French  with  the 
Indians,  government  did  nothing,  individuals  every- 
thing; with  us,  government  attempts  everything, 
and  individuals  frustrate  all. 

It  is  much  to  be  regretted  that  our  views  of 
this  peculiar  people  are  derived  so  often  from  in- 
dividuals so  little  qualified  by  education  or  natural 
endowment  to  form  a just  conception  of  character. 
The  redeeming  qualities  of  a savage  are  as  wholly 
lost  upon  an  uncultivated  or  vulgar  mind  as  are 
the  charms  of  a landscape  too  broken  for  cultiva- 
tion. 

“ What  kind  of  a country  is  it  to  the  north  of 
you  ?”  ask  a tiller  of  the  rich  Mohawk  flats. 

“ Oh,  a terrible  ugly  country;  nothing  but  moun- 
tains, lakes,  and  crags,”  is  the  reply. 

“Well,  how  do  you  like  your  Indian  neighbours  V9 
say  you  to  a new  settler  in  Illinois. 


INDIANS  AND  TRADERS. 


81 


“ Oh,  they  are  a poor  set  of  devils ; live  from 
hand  to  mouth,  and  don’t  know  nothing  nohow.” 

A deep  observer  of  this  kind  becomes  a trader* 
and  therefore  considers  himself  qualified  to  write  a 
book,  from  which  the  city-bred  periodical  writer 
may  deduce  all  sorts  of  sweeping  conclusions  dam- 
natory of  the  whole  Indian  race*.* 

Of  the  false  positions  advanced  on  such  insuffi- 
cient grounds,  it  would  be  easy  enough  to  cite  many 
an  instance;  but  one  might  as  well  sit  down  gravely 
to  answer  the  innumerable  ridiculous  representa- 
tions with  which  the  English  tourists  that  visit  us 
amuse  their  countrymen  at  home.  The  English- 
man’s estimation  of  the  Anglo-American,  and  the 
Anglo-American’s  appreciation  of  the  aborigines  of 
his  country,  must  be  alike  unfair,  so  long  as  each  will 
most  preposterously  persist  in  judging  everything 
according  to  a home  standard.  The  only  point  of 
affinity  between  us  and  the  English  is,  that  we 
about  as  much  resemble  the  expatriated  Cavaliers 
and  Puritans  who  were  the  germ  of  our  population, 
as  do  the  modern  English  themselves.  With  the 
Indians  it  is  still  more  difficult  to  draw  a parallel  in 
reference  to  any  existing  people,  unless  you  would 
compare  them  with  the  rude  tribes  of  Africa,  or  the 


* “ Our  acquaintance,”  says  the  GLuarterly  Review,  No.  LXI. 
December,  1824,  “ with  the  peculiarities  of  Indian  customs  and  cha- 
racter has  unfortunately,  in  general,  been  derived  from  the  reports  of 
traders, — usually  the  most  ignorant,  and  depraved,  and  dishonest 
part  of  the  transatlantic  white  population ; or  of  persons  totally  un- 
educated, who  have  lived  in  captivity  or  from  choice  among  them ; 
or  of  well-meaning  but  simple  and  illiterate  missionaries.” 

VOL.  II. — H 


82 


INDIAN  THEISM. 


degraded  natives  of  New-Holland,  neither  of  which 
are  to  be  named  with  them  in  natural  intelligence 
or  loftiness  of  bearing. 

The  pure  Theism  existing  among  the  Indians  is 
alone  sufficient  to  elevate  them  above  all  barbarians 
that  ever  trod  the  earth.*  The  belief  in  the  exis- 
tence of  the  Che-Manitou,  the  Omnipotent  Spirit  of 
Goodness,  and  the  faith  in  those  blessed  abodes 
where  the  noble  spirits  are  to  be  gathered  hereafter, 
- — though  the  worship  of  the  one  may  be  mingled 
with  mummery  such  as  all  Christendom  indulged 
in  but  a few  centuries  since,  and  the  dream  of  the 
other  blended  with  images  as  earthly  as  the  preacher 
will  sometimes  use  in  describing  the  physical  tor- 
ments of  the  damned, — -are  still  heartfelt  and  endu- 
ring with  the  Indian,  and  bring  forth  fruits  accord- 
ing to  the  soil  in  which  they  have  been  implanted. 
Some  writers,  I am  aware,  will  tell  you  that  an  In- 
dian’s ideas  of  the  Deity  and  eternity  are  much  con- 
fused— are  not  at  all  defined.  And,  pray,  what 
mind  can  take  in  clearly  all  the  attributes  of  Divi- 
nity, or  find  images  in  itself  for  that  which  is  infi- 
nite? How  dare  we,  who  owe  everything  to  a writ- 
ten revelation,  presume  to  scrutinize  the  want  of 
spirituality  in  their  faith,  who  have  had  no  such  aid 
to  enlighten  them  ? Surely  the  fire  on  those  altars 
which  have  been  kindled  anew  from  Heaven  should 
burn  purer  and  brighter  than  those  which  have  been 
fed  by  man  since  the  world  began  ! Is  it  not  enough 
that  the  two  thousand  years  which  have  swept  over 


* See  noteH  . 


INDIAN  FAITH. 


83 


the  earth  since  Christianity  dawned  upon  mankind, 
find  the  Indian  not  farther  from  the  primeval  faith 
than  were  our  forefathers  when  the  blessed  light  of 
the  Gospel  was  first  vouchsafed  to  them  ? / 

Let  me  conclude  this  letter  by  copying  here  an 
extract  from  the  only  legislator  whose  people  ever 
carried  the  precepts  of  Christianity  into  practice  in 
their  intercourse  with  the  Indians.  Penn,  who  had 
thoroughly  mastered  many  dialects  of  the  Indian 
tribes,  and  who  made  it  his  business  to  apply  him- 
self to  the  study  of  their  dispositions  and  habits, 
conveys  his  impressions  in  the  following  language : — 
“ In  liberality  they  excel — nothing  is  too  good  for 
their  friend — give  them  a fine  gun,  coat,  or  other 
thing,  it  may  pass  twenty  hands  before  it  sticks. 
Light  of  heart ; strong  affections,  but  soon  spent ; 
the  most  merry*  creatures  that  live — feast  and  dance 

* “ Merry”  is  a term  that  is  found  in  few  modem  works  upon 
Indian  characteristics;  and  yet  the  writer  has  been  told  by  those 
familiar  with  the  interminable  Indian  legends,  in  which  Nannibo- 
jou  and  Namay-mouchon.  the  genii  of  their  magical  lore,  figure  so 
largely,  that  they  abound  with  sportive  incidents.  Some  of  these, 
indeed,  excessively  ludicrous,  he  has  himself  heard  detailed  by  lips 
that  were  not  the  less  witching  because  the  blood  that  lent  its  glow 
there  was  of  a deeper  crimson  than  thatwhich  flushes  the  cheek  of  a 
New- York  belle.  It  is  much  to  be  regretted,  that  among  the  nu- 
merous accomplished  young  men  at  our  different  posts  on  the  fron- 
tier, there  are  not  found  some  who  will  improve  their  leisure  by  res- 
cuing these  wild  tales  from  oblivion.  I have  often  heard  the  officers 
speak  with  animation  of  the  effect  produced  upon  them,  while  lying 
with  two  or  three  Indians  around  their  watch-fire,  when  off  on  a 
tramp  (as  these  brief  military  excursions  of  a small  detachment  are 
called),  at  hearing  the  guttural  laugh,  or  deep  exclamation  of  delight, 
from  their  swarthy  companions,  as  one  of  the  number  would  abridge 
the  hours  of  darkness  with  his  humourous  and  grotesque  narratives, 


84 


INDIAN  CHARACTER. 


perpetually;  they  never  have  much,  nor  want  much; 
wealth  circulated  like  the  blood — all  parts  partake, 
and,  though  none  shall  want  what  another  hath,* 

spun  out  to  an  immeasurable  length.  A disposition  to  quiz , too, 
is  not  uncommon  among  the  Indians ; and  they  take  great  delight, 
especially,-  in  practising  upon  the  fears  of  whites  who  may  be  thrown 
unexpectedly  into  their  company  in  out-of-the-way  places.  An  of- 
ficer mentioned  to  the  writer,  that  in  hunting  one  day  on  the  prairies, 
he  for  some  time  missed  a Frenchman  who  had  come  out  with  him ; 
when  chancing  to  look  towards  a swamp,  a few  gun-shots  off,  he 
saw  his  attendant  dart  from  tne  woody  covert,  and,  casting  away  his 
arms,  fly  in  a zigzag  direction  across  the  open  plain.  The  gentle- 
man could  not  conceive  the  cause  of  the  fellow’s  peculiar  movements, 
until,  upon  looking  more  narrowly,  he  saw  an  Indian  upon  the 
edge  of  the  thicket,  drawing  his  rifle  on  the  frightened  gumbo,  who 
was  thus  trying  to  foil  his  aim.  The  officer,  of  course,  levelled  his 
own  rifle ; but  seeing  at  a glance  that  the  Indian  was  beyond  its 
rea<?h,  he  gave  up  his  attendant  for  lost ; when  suddenly  the  Indian 
threw  down  his  piece,  and  burst  into  a convulsion  of  laughter.  The 
officer  then  approached  him ; but  it  was  long  before  the  other  found 
breath  to  say,  “ Wymetticose”  (Frenchman)  “one  very  great  brave.” 
— See  note  G. 

While  dwelling  thus  upon  Indian  traits,  the  writer  may  mention 
a fact  which  vividly  illustrates  a characteristic  more  generally  con- 
ceded than  that  which  we  have  just  attempted  to  establish.  The 
singular  atmospherical  phenomenon  of  the  shooting  stars  which  oc- 
curred in  December,  1834,  it  may  be  recollected,  strongly  affected 
the  superstitious  far  and  wide  throughout  the  country.  The  In- 
dians would,  of  course,  have  some  interpretation  of  their  own  for  so 
wonderful  a spectacle ; and,  consequently,  they  seem  generally  to  be 
agreed  that  the  distracted  firmament  betokens  the  dissolution  of  the 
Union  and  the  dispersion  of  the  stars  in  its  flag. 

* To  illustrate  this,  the  writer  might  adduce  an  incident  which  he 
witnessed  at  an  inn  in  Chicago.  In  a discussion  about  Indian  cha- 
racter, a Frenchman  became  quite  incensed  at  the  imputation  of  thiev- 
ing, advanced  as  one  of  its  strongest  characteristics  by  one  of  the 
company.  The  champion  of  the  aborigines  insisted  that  the  cool- 
ness with  which  an  Indian  sometimes  appropriates  the  goods  of  ano- 
ther. arose  entirely  from  his  having  no  conception  of  the  nature  of 


INDIAN  CHARACTER. 


85 


yet  exact  observers  of  property ; they  care  for  little 
because  they  want  but  little,  and  the  reason  is,  a 
little  contents  them.  In  this  they  are  sufficiently 
revenged  on  us — if  they  are  ignorant  of  our  plea- 

property,  or  rather,  a principle  in  Indian  ethics  which  taught  him  to 
consider  each  duplicate  of  another’s  possessions  as  his  own,  and  that 
no  ceremony  was  to  be  used  in  appropriating  it.  An  Indian  hap- 
pened to  pass  the  window  at  the  moment,  and  he  was  called  in  to 
determine  the  dispute.  He  was  a grizzly  old  warrior,  with  a face 
all  cut  to  pieces  by  Harrison’s  horsemen  in  the  affair  of  Tippe-ca- 
noe ; where,  as  he  did  not  hesitate  to  inform  us,  he  had  fought  for 
the  Sager nash  against  the  Long  knives.  The  old  fellow,  who  un- 
derstood but  a few  words  of  English,  had  come  into  Chicago  to  dis- 
pose of  a few  skins ; the  proceeds  from  the  sale  of  which  he  had 
expended  for  a variety  of {{  notions,”  which  he  carried  about  his  per- 
son. He  had  three  or  four  common  tobacco  pipes  stuck  in  the  folds 
of  a gay- coloured  handkerchief,  swathed  round  his  head  like  a tur- 
ban ; and  a long  trail  of  that  preparation  of  the  fragrant  weed  yclept 
“ pig-tail”  pendent  from  his  girdle ; and  a clothes-line,  a pocket- 
knife,  and  other  trumpery  in  his  hands.  Some  of  the  latter  slipped 
from  his  fingers  as  he  turned  round  to  shut  the  door  on  entering ; 
and  the  Frenchman,  picking  them  up  one  after  another,  requested 
permission  to  keep  them,  which  was  at  once  willingly  granted:  ano- 
ther person  then,  taking  the  hint  from  the  Frenchman,  asked  for 
something  else,  and  the  rest  of  the  company  following  suit,  we  soon 
stripped  the  old  Indian  of  everything  he  had.  The  smiling  readi- 
ness with  which  he  met  every  request  afforded  a complete  triumph- 
to  the  Frenchman — we  admitted  at  least  that  it  gave  the  strongest 
negative  proof  in  his  favour.  It  is  unnecessary  to  add  that  the  arti- 
cles were  all  restored,  and  the  Indian  dismissed  with  several  addi- 
tions to  his  little  stock.  Carver  says,  that  “ the  Indians  in  their 
common  state,  are  strangers  to  all  distinction  of  property  except  in 
the  articles  of  domestic  use,  wrhich  every  one  considers  as  his  own, 
and  increases  as  circumstances  admit.  They  are  extremely  liberal 
to  each  other,  and  supply  the  deficiency  of  their  friends  with  any 
superfluity  of  their  own.”  The  recently  published  Life  of  Black- 
hawk,  however  doubtful  may  be  its  claims  as  a specimen  of  Indian 
autobiography,  contains  some  genuine  observations  upon  this  sub- 
subject. 

H 2 


86 


JEFFERSON  BARRACKS. 


sures,  they  are  also  ignorant  of  our  pains.  We 
sweat  and  toil  to  live ; their  pleasures  feed  them — 
I mean  their  hunting,  fishing,  and  fowling ; and  this 
table  is  spread  everywhere.  This  poor  people  are 
under  a dark  night  in  things  relating  to  religion,  to 
be  sure  (the  tradition  of  it;)  yet  they  believe  in  a 
God  and  immortality , without  the  help  of  metaphy- 
sics”* 


LETTER  XXVIII. 

Jefferson  Barracks — Ancient  Hamlet — Remarkable  Cavern — 
Military  Discipline — Troopers — Dragoon  Horses — Military  Inci- 
dent— Deserter  Punished — Indian  Graves — Ill-fated  Expedition. 

Jefferson  Barracks,  Missouri,  March  18, 1834. 

A packet  of  letters  of  introduction  politely  for- 
warded to  this  post  by  a distinguished  officer,  to 
whom  I have  already  been  much  indebted  for  simi- 
lar flattering  attentions,  has  procured  me  the  ac- 
quaintance of  General  A , and  the  officers  un- 

der his  command,  including  several  of  the  new 
corps  of  dragoons,  which  has  here  its  head-quarters. 

General , with  a courtesy  which  I cannot  easily 

forget,  made  me  immediately  at  home  in  his  accom- 
plished and  agreeable  family,  and  my  welcome 
among  the  officers  is  such  as  would  keep  alive  the 


* Vide  the  collected  Works  of  Penn. 


JEFFERSON  BARRACKS. 


87 


memory  of  the  weeks  I lived  in  garrison  at  Prairie 
du  Chien,  could  those  delightful  hours  be  forgotten. 
You  have  never  been  banished  long  enough  from 
the  bosom  of  society  to  realize  the  satisfaction  one 
feels  at  finding  one’s  self  in  such  a circle  after  mas- 
querading for  months  among  all  sorts  of  people.  In 
all  other  society  but  tffe  best  we  have  to  adapt  our- 
selves studiously  to  the  feelings  and  prejudices 
which  prevail  around  us  ; in  the  most  cultivated  cir- 
cles only  are  perfect  freedom  of  discussion  and  un- 
shackled interchange  of  sentiment  to  be  found.  I 
am  not  prepared  to  deny,  however,  that  character 
there  loses  in  interest  what  it  gains  in  amenity. 
To  my  own  taste,  there  are  no  gradations  in  society 
long  tolerable  between  the  raw  material  as  you  find 
it  on  the  frontier,  and  the  thoroughly  manufactured 
article  as  one  occasionally  meets  with  it  elsewhere  : 
vulgarity  is  excluded  alike  from  the  two  extremes ; 
because  affectation  and  pretension,  the  only  cha- 
racteristics essentially  vulgar,  have  place  in  neither. 
This  however  is  a digression. 

I have  been  here  nearly  a week,  and  every  day 
brings  forth  something  to  render  my  stay  more 
agreeable.  The  barracks  are  romantically  situated 
in  an  open  wood  on  a high  bluff,  whose  base  is 
washed  by  the  Mississippi ; they  are  built  in  the 
form  of  a parallelogram  encompassing  three  sides 
of  a noble  parade,  which  is  open  on  the  fourth  to 
the  river,  and  commands  a most  extensive  view 
over  its  broad  and  majestic  current,  its  rich  alluvial 
islands,  and  the  magnificent  forests  on  the  opposite 
shores.  The  ride  hither  from  St.  Louis,  ten  or 


8S 


ANCIENT  HAMLET. 


twelve  miles  only,  has  but  little  to  recommend  it, 
except  occasionally  a pretty  prospect  on  the  river  as 
you  sometimes  approach  its  banks,  especirdly  when 
descending  to  the  hollow  wherein  lies  the  decayed 
village  of  Carandolet,  or  Yuide  Poche,  as  it  is  gen- 
erally called  from  the  poverty  of  its  inhabitants. 
The  aspect  of  this  ancient  hSmlet,  when  compared 
with  that  of  the  modern  part  of  St.  Louis,  would 
remind  one  of  Rip  Van  Winkle,  and  the  new  gene- 
ration that  greeted  his  return  from  the  land  of  dreams, 
except  that  the  drowsy  village  looks  as  if  it  had  • 
gone  to  sleep  some  time  about  the  middle  of  the 
last  century,  and  had  not  yet  had  its  slumbers  in- 
vaded. The  old  houses,  of  crumbling  stone  and 
timber  black  with  age,  appear  as  frail  as  their 
trembling  shadows  on  the  river  that  ripples  near ; 
and  the  scantily  dressed,  sw’art-looking  children 
that  dodge  like  muskrats  behind  the  dilapidated 
enclosures,  as  you  drive  through  the  town,  seem  to 
belong  to  the  aboriginal  as  much  as  to  the  white 
population  of  the  country.  They  speak  an  ancient 
patois  of  the  French,  and  the  carefully  cultivated 
gardens  still  surviving  here  and  there  through  the 
place,  otherwise  indicate  the  race  from  whence 
they  sprang. 

Below  Jefferson  Barracks  there  are  one  or  two 
pretty  rides  along  the  river ; the  one  most  worthy  of 
mention  leads  to  a remarkable  cavern  but  a few 
miles  from  the  garrison.  The  entrance  is  in  the 
face  of  a limestone  cliff,  abruptly  terminating  a ra- 
vine near  the  river,  and  covered  at  the  top  with  a 
flourishing  forest  growth,  The  ravine  itself  at  the 


REMARKABLE  CAVERN. 


89 


upper  end  is  walled  in  with  rocks  and  underwood, 
and  the  rough  bed  of  a brook,  which  issuing  from 
the  cave  flows  through  the  hollow,  is  the  most  pro- 
minent passage  to  the  cavern  itself.  The  entrance 
forms  nearly  a perfect  arch,  some  twenty  feet  in 
height ; the  roof  for  some  depth  being  nearly  flat, 
and  the  gravelled  floor  so  level  that  I found  but  little 
difficulty  in  advancing  on  horseback  into  the  sha- 
dowy realm,  until  a turn  in  the  cave  excluded  the 
daylight,  and  my  timid  horse  refused  to  proceed  far- 
ther. At  this  point  I was  overtaken  by  the  party 
of  officers  whom  I had  accompanied  to  visit  "the 
cave,  but  who,  for  convenience,  had  parted  with 
their  horses  before  entering  the  ravine.  A soldier 
in  attendance  led  mine  out  of  the  cavern,  and  picket- 
ed him  on  the  hill  with  his  companions ; while, 
marshalled  along  by  a dozen  dragoons  with  torches, 
our  party  advanced  into  the  cave.  The  turns  were 
few,  and  were  it  not  for  the  the  occasional  rocks 
and  other  inequalities  on  the  floor,  there  was  room 
enough,  as  a dragoon  remarked,  to  stable  a regi- 
ment of  cavalry.  The  ceiling  in  the  mean  time  be- 
came unequal  in  height,  and  took  a variety  of  forms ; 
the  limestone  vault  above  assuming  in  one  place, 
called  the  coffin-chamber,  the  exact  form  of  the 
gloomy  object  from  which  it  takes  its  name  ; while, 
with  the  slight  aid  of  fancy,  the  semblance  of  an 
inverted  boat  apparently  imbedded  in  the  ceiling  in 
another  place  suggested  a more  pleasing  image. 

After  advancing  several  hundred  yards,  and  ex- 
ploring one  or  two  false  passages,  the  roof  suddenly 
dropped  so  near  to  the  floor,  which  was  nowr  alter 


90 


REMARKABLE  CAVERN. 


nately  rock  and  water,  that  the  fatigue  of  going  on 
in  the  crouching  position  rendered  necessary  was 
more  than  doubled,  while  nothing  presented  to  re- 
pay the  toil.  We  therefore  determined  to  return  to 
the  last  chamber  that  we  had  left,  which  was  in  fact 
one  of  the  finest  of  the  cave.  Here,  o-n  a broad 
rock  in  the  centre,  reposed  a cold  Virginia  ham, 
flanked  by  a couple  of  chickens,  with  a tray  of  wine- 
biscuits  and  a fragrant  Ohio  cheese  bringing  up  the 
rear ; while  amid  the  bubbles  of  a cold  spring  be- 
neath the  rock  a couple  of  bottles  of  champaign 
reared  their  grenadier  necks,  as  if  eager  to  start 
from  the  ambush.  A half-a-dozen  dragoons  bearing 
torches,  like  the  living  chandeliers  of  “ Ranald  of 
the  Mist,”  stood  around ; their  lights  now  gleaming 
on  the  sparry  roof,  or  flickering  on  the  shallow 
stream  that  rippled  along  the  bottom  of  the  cavern, 
and  now  trembling  on  the  damp  air  that  swept 
through  the  place,  and  giving  its  recesses  by  turns 
to  glimmer  or  to  gloom.  The  joke,  the  laugh,  and 
song  meantime  went  round,  while  the  bats,  the  only 
witnesses  of  our  orgies,  and  which  actually  in  some 
places  hung  in:  clusters  along  the  wall,  would  drop 
now  and  then  from  the  rude  cornices  of  our  banquet- 
ing hall,  and  create  no  little  confusion  around  our 
primitive  table.  At  last  the  notes  of  a bugle,  which 
we  had  left  at  the  entrance,  winding  in  many  a pro- 
longed echo  through  the  sinuous  vault,  gave  warn- 
ing that  another  party  of  officers,  with  whom  some 
of  us  intended  to  continue  the  afternoon’s  ride,  were 
waiting  outside  the  cavern.  We  emerged  together 
from  its  shadowy  chambers,  and  taking  to  our 


MILITARY  DISCIPLINE. 


91 


horses  again,  the  mounted  privates  filed  off  through 
the  wood  with  their  officer,  and  took  the  road  to  the 
garrison  ; while  the  rest  of  our  party  galloped  along 
the  bank  of  the  river,  to  enjoy  the  beautiful  sunset 
prospect  of  the  opposite  shore. 

I was  repeatedly  struck  with  the  intelligent  re- 
marks of  the  dragoons  in  attendance  while  we  were 
exploring  the  cave,  as,  without  for  a moment  trench- 
ing on  the  sternness  of  military  etiquette  with  their, 
officers,  they  would  occasionally  ask  a question 
about  some  naineralogical  specimen,  or  in  a quiet 
way  by  themselves  discuss  its  nature.  The  new 
corps,  indeed,  to  which  they  belong,  is,  take  it  alto- 
gether, composed  of  admirable  materials,  though  it 
must  be  admitted  that  some  unpardonable  oversights 
were  made  in  its  original  organization.  The  omis- 
sion of  providing  riding-masters  and  a school  of 
practice  for  both  horses  and  men,  is  a defect  that  all 
the  care  and  exertions  of  the  accomplished  and 
energetic  officers  of  the  coips  can  hardly  remedy. 
The  same  pains  should  be  taken  with  each  indi- 
vidual horse,  as  in  “ setting  up”  an  ordinary  recruit 
before  subjecting  him  to  company  drill ; and  no  pri- 
vate should  be  allowed  to  back  the  managed  charger 
assigned  to  him  before  he  has  taken  at  least  one 
course  of  regular  lessons  with  the  riding-master; 
nor  should  a single  troop  have  been  sent  from  the 
head-quarters  of  the  regiment  before  not  only  every 
squad  was  perfect  in  its  drill,  but  every  company  in 
the  regiment  had  manoeuvred  for  months  together. 
The  omission  of  the  necessary  provisions  in  the  bill 
reported  by  Congress,  and  the  dispersion  of  the  regi- 


92 


TROOPERS. 


ment  on  the  frontier  as  each  company  is  recruited, 
almost  forbids  an  approach  to  such  a state  of  disci- 
pline. The  three  new  companies  here  are  nearly 
perfect  in  the  light  infantry  exercise,  which  enters 
largely  into  the  manoeuvres  of  dragoons,  but* the 
exactness  of  their  movements  when  mounted  varies 
with  the  skill  of  each  individual  horseman.  They 
expect  orders  every  day  to  join  the  companies  that 
have  already  proceeded  to  the  south-west,  and  ad- 
vance with  them  against  the  Pawnees.  It  would  be 
a fine  sight  to  see  such  a body  of  well  mounted 
troopers  moving  over  the  prairies,  which  have  never 
witnessed  a similar  spectacle  since  the  steel-clad 
warriors  of  De  Soto  shook  their  lances  in  these 
wilds.*  The  consequent  exertions  of  the  officers  to 
put  man  and  horse  in  condition  to  take  the  field  are 
untiring ; but  unless  the  season  for  preparation  be 
much  extended,  the  want  of  elementary  practice  in 
a riding-school  will  render  it  impossible  to  attain  an 
end  so  desirable.  In  the  mean  time,  nothing  can 
be  finer  than  the  appearance  of  both  men  and  horses 
individually  ; the  former,  all  native-born  Americans, 
are  recruited  entirely  from  the  respectable  working 
classes — young  farmers,  tradesmen,  and  mechanics  ; 
while  occasionally  a young  merchant,  lawyer,  or 
physician,  has  been  led  by  the  love  of  enterprise  to 
enlist  among  them.  Some  of  these,  having  no  idea 

* The  romantic  expedition  of  this  bold  Spaniard  and  his  gallant 
followers  will  soon  become  more  familiar  to  the  public  from  a work 
by  an  accomplished  friend  now  in  the  press,  which  has  excited  much 
expectation;  an  expectation  which,  we  may  venture  to  say,  from 
having  seen  a portion  of  the  MS.,  will  not  be  disappointed. 


DRAGOON  HORSES. 


93 


of  the  details  of  military  discipline,  and  the  neces- 
sary distinctions  of  rank  and  requisitions  of  military 
etiquette,  have  become  disgusted  with  a soldier’s 
life,  and  deserted  their  corps ; but  the  majority  of 
the  new  recruits  seem  pleased  with  their  present 
situation,  and  eager  to  enter  more  earnestly  upon 
the  mode  of  life  which  they  have  adopted. 

The  appearance  of  the  horses  wrnuld  delight 
you.  The  officer  who  superintended  their  purchase 
has  been  very  happy  in  matching  them,  and  keep- 
ing the  colour  of  each  company  distinct ; and  you 
can  readily  imagine  the  fine  appearance  of  fifty 
white-tailed  duns  or  spirited  iron  grays,  any  two  of 
which  would  make  a perfect  match — a squadron  of 
glossy  chestnuts  or  troops  of  blacks  as  dark  as  night. 
Having  never  seen  any  of  the  superb  cavalry  in  the 
armies  of  Europe,  where  the  horses  of  a whole  regi- 
ment are  perfectly  matched,  the  sight  has  all  the 
charm  of  novelty  for  me  ; and  whenever  the  dragoon 
horses  are  paraded,  I find  myself  on  horseback 
along  with  them.  This,  with  rummaging  the  very 
good  library  belonging  to  the  post,  or  lounging  into 
the  music-room  at  the  hour  when  the  band  is  prac- 
tising, where  I am  often  rewarded  with  a well  exe- 
cuted piece  from  some  modern  opera,  or  listening  to 
touches  from  fairer  fingers  at  the  general’s  quarters 
in  the  evening — this,  adding  agreeable  conversation, 
and  an  Indian  pipe  or  two  of  kinnekinic  after  din- 
ner, carries  one  well  enough  through  a day,  already 
shortened  by  watching  with  some  interest  the  regu- 
lar succession  of  military  duties  and  the  showy  dis- 
play of  a large  garrison. 

VOL.  II— i 


94 


MILITARY  INCIDENT. 


I was  much  diverted  with  a little  incident  which 
I witnessed  the  other  evening.  I had  been  sup- 
ping with  a young  staff-officer  quartered  in  a cot- 
tage near  the  garrison,  and  over  whose  mantelpiece 
waved  a flag  wrhich  his  father  had  planted  on  the 
wralls  of  Derne,  and  was  returning  to  the  barracks 
with  an  officer  of  dragoons.  The  wood  through 
which  our  path  led  was  extremely  dark,  and  my 
companion  carried  a lantern.  As  we  approached  a 
postern,  we  were  suddenly  hailed  in  a low  voice 
by  some  one  near,  and  the  rustling  of  the  dead 
leaves  indicated  that  footsteps  were  approaching. 
“Hist!  are  you  coming?”  whispered  the  stranger. 
“ Deserters,  by  heaven !”  exclaimed  the  officer, 
unlocking  his  arm  from  mine.  “ Stand  forth,  you 
scoundrels,”  added  he,  raising  his  lantern  so  as  to 
throw  its  light  for  some  distance  around  us.  It  fell 
upon  a solitary  figure  standing . immediately  in  the 
path  behind  us.  “ J — s ! it’s  the  lef-ten-ncmt ! and 
I took  him  for  Smith,”  ejaculated  a half  intoxicated 
dragoon,  letting  fall  at  the  same  time  something 
which  he  carried  under  his  arm.  “ Pick  up  your 
canteen,  sir,  and  step  in  front  of  me,”  said  the 
officer,  sternly.  The  fellowr  obeyed  like  a piece  of 
mechanism.  “Forward!”  cried  his  superior,  and 
the  culprit  was  handed  over  to  the  guard  a mo- 
ment afterward. 

This  was  the  first  offence  of  the  kind  that  had 
occurred  in  the  company  to  which  the  man  belong- 
ed, and  his  comrades,  after  the  guard  was  turned 
out  in  the  morning,  asked  permission,  through  an 
orderly,  to  award  the  punishment  of  the  first  soldier 


INDIAN  GRAVES. 


95 


who  had  thus  disgraced  them.  The  boon,  in  con- 
sideration of  their  general  good  conduct,  and  by  way 
of  keeping  up  a high  spirit  in  this  new'  corps,  was 
very  properly  granted.  The  penalty  was  soon  an- 
nounced to  be  “a  ducking  in  the  Mississippi.”  The 
officer  in  command  of  the  division  having  approved 
of  it,  the  company  was  formally  drawn  up  . upon  the 
bank  of  the  river ; and  three  or  four  of  the  stoutest 
soldiers  being  detailed  from  the  ranks  upon  the  dis- 
agreeable duty,  the  strictest  decorum  was  observed 
while  the  criminal  expiated  his  offence  by  washing 
out  the  stain  which  he  had  brought  upon  his  corps. 

I passed  an  hour  or  two  yesterday  with  General 
A , in  superintending  the  opening  of  some  an- 

cient Indian  graves  in  the  neighbourhood ; our 
search  after  relics  having  been  immediately  sug- 
gested by  the  general’s  gardener  turning  up  acci- 
dentally a day  or  two  since  a large  stone  tomahawk, 
which,  with  another  that  would  make  a virtuoso’s 
mouth  water,  was  politely  presented  to  me.  The 
general’s  orderly,  with  a couple  of  privates  armed 
with  spades  and  pickaxes,  was  already  on  the  spot, 
as  we  rode  up  to  a prettily-wooded  knoll  near  the 
river,  when  it  was  proposed  to  commence  opera- 
tions. The  place  was  every  here  and  there  planted 
with  flat  stones  placed  each  on  end  like  a tombstone, 
but  overgrown  with  moss,  or  sunken  almost  beneath 
the  surface  of  the  ground.  A pair  of  these  stones 
would  stand  opposite  to  each  other  with  an  interval 
of  about  four  feet ; the  intermediate  distance  when 
excavated  being  found  always  to  consist  of  a shal- 
low basin,  formed  with  considerable  care  of  flat 


96 


ILL-FATED  EXPEDITION, 


stones,  but  neither  bones  nor  weapons  were  therein  ; 
and  these  singular  cells  not  resembling  in  form  the 
“caches”  in  which  the  modern  Indians  secrete  their 
corn  beneath  the  earth,  we  were  wholly  unable  to 
assign  a cause  for  their  construction,  unless  they 
had  been  actually  the  resting-place  of  bodies,  so 
ancient  as  to  have  mingled  entirely  with  their  kin- 
dred dust. 

I have  been  invited  by  several  officers  of  the  dra- 
goons* to  accompany  them  on  the  long  march  for 


* Many,  alas ! of  these  fine  fellows,  and  among  them  at  least  one 
officer  who  was  of  the  gay  party  described  in  the  first  part  of  this 
letter,  are  now  no  more.  Instead  of  waiting  until  horses  and  men 
were  gradually  inured  to  the  climate,  this  gallant  corps,  half  disci- 
plined, inexperienced,  and  ill-prepared  as  they  were,  took  the  field 
and  accomplished  the  object  of  their  expedition,  at  the  expense  of 
nearly  the  destruction  of  the  regiment.  A late  number  of  the  Mis- 
souri Republican  mentions  that  a hundred  men  and  some  of  the 
most  promising  officers  in  the  service  have  perished.  It  states  that 
the  dragoons  while  on  the  Pawnee  Plains  endured  incredible  hard- 
ships. They  were  frequently  for  many  hours  without  water,  or 
compelled  to  drink  and  cook  with  that  which  was  found  in  puddles 
upon  their  way.  We  are  told  that  6t  when  they  arrived  at  the  Paw- 
nee village,  so  destitute  were  they  of  provisions,  that  an  order  had 
been  issued  for  the  slaying  of  some  of  the  equally  famished  horses, 
to  provide  a meal  for  the  men.  Under  a burning  sun,  the  fever 
which  has  since  carried  so  many  of  them  to  the  grave  had  already 
commenced  rioting  in  their  veins.  Not  more  than  one  hundred  and 
fifty  effective  men  reached  this  point.  They  found  the  Pawnees 
friendly  disposed  towards  them, — their  wants  were  administered  to, 
and  the  men  relieved  by  a stay  of  a few  days.  Meanwhile  the 
neighbouring  tribes  of  Indians  were  summoned,  and  came  to  a coun- 
cil to  the  number  of  three  thousand  warriors  ; all  of  them  mounted 
on  fleet  horses ; their  dark  eyes  glancing  upon  their  visiters  in  no 
very  gentle  aspect;  their  arms  and  warlike  instruments  glistening 
in  the  sun;  but,  fortunately,  the  council  closed  peaceably.  The 
dragoons  returned  to  Fort  Gibson,  worn  out  and  exhausted.”  They 


PROJECTED  TRIP. 


97 


which  they  daily  expect  to  receive  orders  from 
Washington ; and  most  gladly  would  I avail  my- 
self of  such  an  opportunity  of  seeing  the  prairies  of 
the  south-west ; but  they  are  expected  to  consume 
a year  in  their  tour  of  duty  among  the  wild  tribes 
of  that  region,  and  I have  made  no  arrangements 
for  being  so  long  absent  from  home.  I must  con- 
tent myself  with  a trip  up  the  Missouri,  which  I 
have  projected  with  a friend  at  St,  Louis,  whither  I 
shall  return  to-morrow,  to  avail  myself  of  the  first 
opportunity  of  making  it. 

are  now  in  winter  quarters,  distributed,  we  believe,  in  three  different 
garrisons 1 on  the  frontier,  instead  of  being  concentrated,  as  they 
ought  to  be,  at  a post  where  they  could  have  a school  of  practice  for 
years  to  come.  There  are  some  hints  in  Lord  Dover’s  lately  pub- 
lished Life  of  Frederick  the  Great  which  show  that  an  efficient  ca- 
valry force  cannot  be  constituted  in  a day, — and  which  may  be  pe- 
rused to  equal  advantage  by  those  who  would  send  green  recruits 
among  a nation  of  horsemen,  and  those  who  complain  of  want  of 
efficiency  in  a corps  which  has  as  yet  succumbed  to  nothing  but 
climate. 


98 


EMBARKATION. 


I 


LETTER  XXIX. 

Embarkation— -The  Mississippi — Rock  Formations — Woodcut- 
ters— An  Affray — The  Ohio — Louisville — Fellow  passengers— A 
Frontier  Tradition — Trying  Situation. 

Ohio  River,  March  25,  1834. 

I waited  some  time  at  St.  Louis,  in  the  hope  of 
being  able  to  prosecute  my  tour  farther  westward, 
but  ultimately  failed  in  an  application  to  the  officers 
of  the  American  Fur  Company  for  a passage  in  one 
of  their  boats  to  the  mouth  of  the  Yellow  Stone. 
The  request  was  politely  preferred  for  me  by  a 
gentleman  interested  in  the  Indian  trade ; and  it 
has  been  intimated  to  me  that  it  was  refused  be- 
cause some  of  the  association  would  not  like  “ a 
chiel  amang  them  takin  notes.”  I regret  the  cir- 
cumstance the  more  from  having  intended  to  avail 

myself  of  the  cordial  invitation  of  Major ,of  the 

Indian  department,  to  pass  a month  with  him  at  his 
station,  far  in  the  interior.  Abandoning  then  this 
inviting  excursion,  I became  impatient  to  take  my 
passage  for  Cincinnati,  until  I found  myself  on  a 
bright  afternoon  hauling  out  from  the  docks  of  St. 
Louis  in  a small  and  rather  shabby-looking  steam- 
er; but  which  had  a reputation  for  speed,  and  an 
active  and  civil  master  to  recommend  her.  The 
piers  at  the  time  were  crowded  with  other  steam- 


EMBARKATION. 


99 


boats,  either  lately  arrived  from  below,  or  about 
starting  on  their  long  voyage  to  New  Orleans;  some 
that  had  come  in  the  night  before  from  Louisville 
were  thronged  with  emigrants  from  every  country, 
hastening  to  the  exhaustless  prairies  of  Illinois,  or 
eager  to  distribute  themselves  along  the  turbid  wa- 
ters of  the  far-flowing  Missouri.  The  hoarse  pant- 
ing of  the  high-pressure  engines,  the  rattling  of  the 
drays  on  the  paved  wharfs,  and  the  discordant  cries 
in  every  tongue  mingling  with  the  song  of  the  ne- 
gro boatmen,  as  their  wild  chaunt  on  coming  into 
port  would  rise  ever  and  anon  above  the  general 
din,  made  a confusion  of  sights  and  sounds  that 
was  bewildering.  At  length  we  got  fairly  under 
way,  the  last  adieux  were  made,  and  messages  and 
commissions,  deferred  till  the  last  moment,  ex- 
changed ; the  crew  of  our  boat  adding  to  the  general 
concert  by  raising  the  customary  river-chorus  as 
they  loosed  her  moorings  from  the  shore.  The  gro- 
tesque gables  and  stuccoed  parapets  of  St.  Louis 
soon  faded  in  the  distance;  the  scattered  and  crumb- 
ling cottages  of  Carandolet  were  passed ; and  an 
hour  after  found  us  watching  the  proud  ensign  of 
Jefferson  Barracks,  as  the. Mississippi  swept  us  be- 
neath the  bold  bluff  from  whose  summit  the  stand- 

\ 

ard  is  displayed. 

A hundred  tourists  have  put  forth  all  their  powers 
in  describing  the  Mississippi ; and  the  popular  au- 
thor of  Cyril  Thornton  has  lately  succeeded  so  ad- 
mirably, that  my  impressions  in  descending  two 
hundred  miles  to  the  south  of  the  Ohio  will  pass  for 
nothing  with  you.  I had  already,  as  you  well  re- 


100 


THE  MISSISSIPPI. 


member,  seen  the  Mississippi  several  hundred  miles 
farther  up,  where  the  river,  with  a much  less  body 
of  water,  is  as  wide  as  at  New  Orleans,  and  where 
the  majestic  tide  is  so  transparent  and  calmly  flow- 
ing that  it  seems  to  claim  no  kindred  with  the  great 
sewer  of  the  south-west — the  lengthened  channel 
of  the  muddy  Missouri,  which  with  its  turbid  cur- 
rent and  marshy  shore  should  never  have  been  iden- 
tified in  name  with  the  Upper  Mississippi.  What 
affinity,  indeed,  can  one  trace  between  the  boister- 
ous torrent  that  whirls  through  the  cypress  swamps 
of  Louisiana,  and  those  pebbled  waters,  which, 
swollen  by  the  pure  snows  of  the  north,  come  rolling 
from  a thousand  crystal  lakes,*  through  rocky  bluffs 
that  lift  their  battlemented  summits,  like  the  towers 
of  by-gone  days,  along  the  limpid  tide,  or  lead  off 
their  gray  walls  so  far  into  the  prairie  that  miles  of 
meadow  intervene  between  their  base  and  the  flow- 
er-kissed current  ? For  one  who  has  ever  stood 
upon  those  cliffs,  and  looked  down  upon  the  soft 
meadow  or  clear  depths  beneath  him, — there,  where 
a hundred  green  islets,  like  the  floating  gardens  of 
Montezuma,  seem  dropped  upon  the  sunny  surface; 
or,  glancing  from  their  imbowered  thickets,  has 
watched  each  salient  point  of  the  bold  bluff  oppo- 
site assume  a hundred  shapes,  as  the  gorgeous 
clouds  of  sunset  would  drift  over  the  pearly  skies 
above  him, — for  one  who  has  gazed  upon  this  fairy 
landscape,  even  when  winter  has  veiled  its  charms, 
the  Lower  Mississippi  possesses  but  little  attraction. 


* See  note  I. 


ALLUVIAL  ISLANDS. 


101 


For  many  miles,  indeed,  below  St.  Louis  there 
are  some  striking  points  occasionally  occurring. 
The  ridge  of  bluffs  again  appears  below  the  “ Ame- 
rican bottom,”  and  sometimes  they  approach  the 
edge  of  the  stream,  till  it  whirls  in  boiling  eddies 
around  their  irregular  base.  The  numerous  allu- 
vial islands,  too,  borrow  an  air  of  grandeur  from  the 
Titan-like  trees,  whose  ponderous  limbs  and  lofty 
shafts  seem  to  sustain  the  clouds  above  them ; but 
I confess  that  to  me  half  the  interest  attaching  here 
to  the  river  arose  from  association  only.  The  mere 
idea  of  being  upon  a stream  that  traverses  such  an 
immense  extent  of  country  that  the  productions  of 
every  climate  flourish  upon  its  banks  is  sufficiently 
impressive.  But  it  is  not  until  you  think  upon  the 
lonely  lakes  of  the  north-west,  from  which  the  father 
of  rivers  derives  his  birth,  and  the  tropical  seas  in 
which  his  waters  lose  themselves — upon  the  vast 
and  fertile  regions  that  intervene,  and  upon  the  tri- 
butaries, hardly  second  to  himself,  by  which  they 
are  watered,  that  your  mind  takes  in  the  full  image 
of  his  grandeur. 

Among  the  objects  of  interest  pointed  out  to  the 
tourist  in  descending  to  the.  mouth  of  the  Ohio  are 
some  remarkable  rock  formations  known  as  the 
“Grand  Tower,”  “ The  Devil’s  Oven,”  &c.  The 
first  of  these  is  a lofty  and  detached  crag  of  a cyl- 
indrical form,  which  stands  out  from  the  shore,  and 
upholds  its  crown  of  rifted  pines,  regardless  of  the 
torrent  that  roars  around  its  base.  The  other  is  a 
hemispherical  cavity,  hollowed  out  by  the  action  of 
water  in  former  days,  and  spacious  enough  for  a 


102 


WOODCUTTERS. 


holocaust  of  Chaberts,  and  as  many  beefsteaks  as 
would  satisfy  the  batch,  to  be  baked  together  in. 
We  stopped  to  take  in  wood,  upon  coming  where 
the  bank  was  .again  composed  of  alluvion ; and  I 
have  seldom  seen  such  wild  and  grotesque-looking 
creatures  as  issued  from  the  edge  of  the  forest  when 
the  boat  approached  the  shore.  The  woodcutters 
of  the  Mississippi  are  as  peculiar  a race  as  were 
the  boatmen  whom  the  use  of  steam  has  driven 
from  its  waters.  They  rear  their  rude  cabins  chiefly 
in  those  places  along  the  river  which  are  too  un- 
healthy to  become  settled  by  permanent  and  re- 
spectable occupants,  and  there,  free  from  all  control 
but  that  of  their  necessities,  and  exposed  to  the 
noxious  exhalations  of  the  swamps  adjacent,  they 
become  alike  uncouth  in  manners  and  unnatural  in 
appearance.  Their  frames  are  shaken  by  fevers 
till  the  flesh  departs  from  their  rickety  limbs ; while 
the  drooping  rotundity  of  their  persons  in  front  con- 
trasts strangely  with  the  sunken  uheeks,  whose  hue 
seems  still  more  sallow  from  the  lank  black  hair 
that  hangs  in  elf-locks  over  them. 

I was  standing  near  the  quarter-rail,  observing  a 
group  of  these  people  with  some  curiosity,  and  im- 
mediately beside  me  the  master  of  the  steamer  was 
entertaining  some  ladies,  passengers,  by  pointing 
out  the  peculiarities  of  another  group,  when  an  ex- 
clamation of  alarm  from  the  females  called  my  atten- 
tion to  a stout  fellow  in  a hunting-frock  who  stood 
near  a skiff  on  the  river’s  bank,  and  waving  a long 
and  heavy  staff  in  his  hand  as  we  neared  the  shore, 
called  out  to  us  in  a threatening  voice  to  “keep  off.” 


AN  AFFRAY. 


103 


The  words  had  not  passed  his  lips,  when  the  bow 
of  the  steamer  approached  near  enough  to  the  ab- 
rubt  margin  for  one  of  the  crew  to  leap  to  land  with 
the  bow-fast  in  his  hand,  the  commotion  occasioned 
by  the  wheels  at  the  same  time  nearly  swamping 
the  little  craft  of  the  backwoodsman.  The  pole  he 
held  was  instantly  in  requisition  ; and  our  boatman 
scarcely  touched  the  earth,  before  a blow,  that  might 
have  felled  an  ox,  stretched  him  at  full  length  upon 
it.  A cry  of  indignation  burst  from  our  crew.  “ Ex- 
cuse me,  ladies,”  said  the  captain,  politely  touching 
his  hat,  while  stepping  back  a pace  or  two  he  took 
his  rifles  from  behind  the  door  of  his  private  cabin, 
where  it  stood  ready  loaded.  The  shining  barrel 
was  levelled  upon  the  assailant  in  an  instant ; in 
another  he  would  have  been  in  eternity  ; but,  in  the 
rapid  succession  of  incidents,  half  of  our  crew  had 
leaped  ashore  to  succour  the  wounded  man,  and  the 
intermingling  of  the  different  parties  prevented  the 
captain  from  drawing  the  trigger,  even  as  his  finger 
was  upon  it.  Throwing  up  the  muzzle  of  his  piece, 
he  now  quickly  gained  the  river’s  bank  with  the 
rest ; and  in  the  warm  parley  that  ensued,  it  was 
only  the  unusual  circumstance  of  there  being  but 
one  rifle  in  a company  of  so  many  that  prevented 
the  effusion  of  blood.  The  backwoodsman  thrice 
raised  his  quarter-staff,  and  thrice  did  the  captain, 
retiring  a step,  place  his  rifle  to  his  shoulder,  with 
its  muzzle  within  a foot  of  the  other’s  mouth.  At 
length,  having  completed  taking  in  wood,  the  mas- 
ter again  returned  to  the  deck,  attended  first  to  the 
injured  man,  and  then  replacing  his  rifle,  with  an 


104 


THE  OHIO. 

apology  to  the  ladies  for  “ so  unpleasant  an  inter- 
ruption,” pursued  the  conversation  as  if  nothing  un- 
usual had  occurred. 

U I am  now  upon  the  beautiful  Ohio,  and  revelling 
in  the  most  delightful  scenery  in  the  world.  The 
season  is  not  quite  advanced  enough  to  show  the 
river  to  the  best  advantage,  but  the  opening  of 
spring  shows  itself  in  the  tender  leaflets  of  the 
cotton  wood  and  the  tufted  verdure  of  the  hardy 
cane-brake;  while  the  snowy  blossom  of  the  dog- 
wood can  be  seen  far  wfithin  the  bosoms  of  the 
thinly-arrayed  forest,  and  the  joyous  red-bud  blooms 
over  whole  acres  near  the  shore.  Many  of  the 
trees  on  the  river’s  bank  are  covered  with  the  mistle- 
toe, whose  deep  green  clusters  stand  in  bold  relief 
upon  the  pale  bark  of  the  sycamore. 

It  was  an  agreeable  moment  to  me  when  our 
steamer  wheeled  around  the  marshy  little  peninsula 
of  Cairo,  and,  leaving  the  desolate  tide  of  the  Mis- 
sissippi, I found  myself  once  more  upon  this  trans- 
parent water.  The  heavy  forests  of  oak,  and  elm, 
and  towering  poplar  did  not  indeed  at  first  present 
much  variety  upon  the  level  shores ; but  after  pass- 
ing the  broad  mouths  of  the  Cumberland  and  Ten- 
nessee, with  the  large  and  beautiful  islands  at  the 
embouchure  of  each,  we  came  to  those  inaccessible 
perpendicular  rocks*  which  the  river  washes  above 


* The  principal  promontories  of  this  range  of  cliffs  are  known  as 
“ Battery  Rock,”  “ Cave  Rock,”  and  “ Tower  Rock.”  On  the 
summit  of  the  latter  there  is  said  to  exist  an  antique  tumulus,  partly 
constructed  of  large  blocks  of  stone ; but  by  whom  erected,  or  for 
what  purpose  designed,  tradition  saith  not.  “ Mounds  or  cairns  of 


THE  OHIO. 


105 


Golconda.  Here  the  frowning  precipices  that  gave 
dignity  to  the  shore,  and  the  green  islets  that  di- 
versified the  bosom  of  the  noble  river,  afforded  a 
combination  of  the  bold  and  beautiful  such  as  is 
only  met  upon  the  Ohio — such  as,  when  the  ample 
moon  shone  down  on  crag  and  stream  and  floating 
forest  there,  would  realize  all  that  poet  ever  dreamed 
of  scenery. 

Shawneetown  and  the  sounding  Wabash,  with  its 
wavy  forests  and  grateful  groves  of  Pekaun  ( carya 
olivceformis,)  were  soon  after  passed,  and  the  in- 
creased windings  of  the  stream,  with  its  picturesque 
alternations  of  “ bluff”  and  “bottom” — its  steep 
conical  hills  nodding  with  unbroken  forests,  and 
fertile  vales  smiling  with  happy  cultivation,  beguiled 
our  course,  and  soon  brought  us  to  the  rapids,  four 
hundred  and  fifty  miles  from  the  mouth  of  the  river. 

“The  Falls  of  the  Ohio,”  once  so  dangerous  to 

this  kind,”  observes  Mr.  Schoolcraft,  “ are  not  unknown  to  other 
parts  of  the  Mississippi  Valley,  although  the  stones  are  not  hewed 
or  disposed  with  much  regularity.  But  the  most  remarkable  struc- 
ture of  stone  of  an  antique  character  which  the  progress  of  settle- 
ment has  yet  disclosed,  is  undoubtedly  that  described  by  Dr.  C.  L. 
Beck  (Gazetteer  of  Illinois  and  Missouri,  Alb.  1823,)  as  situated 
near  Noyen  Creek  in  Missouri.” 

The  immense  cavernous  fissure  known  as  Cave  Rock,  or  11  Rook- 
Inn  Cave”  is  often  visited  by  persons  passing  the  Ohio.  Its  di- 
mensions, as  quoted  in  Schoolcraft’s  Travels,  are — length,  one  hun- 
dred and  sixty  feet ; width  at  the  mouth,  eighty- eight  feet ; height 
at  the  entrance,  forty  feet — tapering  gradually  towards  its  termina- 
tion. There  is  an  unexplored  fissure  in  the  roof  of  this  cavern. 
Popular  tradition  designates  this  cave  as  one  of  the  haunts  of  a gang 
of  robbers  who  formerly  infested  the  Ohio  ; and  its  peculiar  form  has 
suggested  one  of  his  most  agreeable  tales  to  an  admirable  Western 
writer. 


VOL.  II. — K 


106 


LOUISVILLE. 


the  river-craft,  are  no  longer  among  the  objects  of 
interest  which  meet  the  eye  of  the  passing  traveller 
on  this  route.  They  are  now  wholly  avoided  by 
the  steamboat-canal,  which,  commencing  two  miles 
below  Louisville,  terminates  at  the  wharfs  of  that 
flourishing  city.  The  work  is  a very  complete  one, 
and  the  solid  finish  of  the  masonry  in  the  locks 
exacts  a tribute  of  admiration  from  every  one  that 
avails  himself  of  this  great  improvement  in  the  navi- 
gation of  the  river.  Our  steamboat  stopped  for  an 
hour  at  Louisville,  and  I seized  the  opportunity  to 
ramble  through  the  town.  It  is  handsomely  laid 
out,  with  broad  and  well  paved  streets,  compactly 
built  with  brick  and  stone.  Some  of  the  private 
dwellings  have  a good  deal  of  style  about  them  ; 
and  among  the  numerous  hotels,  there  is  one  much 
superior  in  external  appearance  and  interior  arrange- 
ment to  any  establishment  of  the  kind  we  have  in 
New-York.  The  shops,  which  are  large  and  airy, 
offer  a very  showy  display  of  goods ; and  the  spa- 
cious and  substantial  warehouses,  with  the  nume- 
rous drays  continually  passing  to  and  fro,  the  con- 
course of  well-dressed  people  in  the  streets,  and  the 
quantity  of  river-craft  in  front  of  the  town,  give 
Louisville  the  appearance  of  being  the  greatest 
place  of  business  upon  the  western  waters.*  There 

* Louisville  is  the  great  commercial  emporium  of  Kentucky.  The 
Ohio  at  this  point  runs  nearly  due  west,  and  the  town  faces  the 
north,  standing  on  a vast  alluvial  bottom,  which,  ascending  from  the 
shore,  stretches  out  in  every  direction  from  the  river.  The  popula- 
tion of  Louisville  is  about  15,000.  Among  its  public  buildings  are 
eight  or  nine  churches,  a theatre,  high-school,  United  States  Bank, 
Marine  Hospital,  &c.  There  are  numerous  steam-mills,  an  iron- 


FELLOW  PASSENGERS. 


107 


were  several  steam-boats  that  arrived  and  departed 
even  in  the  brief  time  that  our  boat  lay-to ; and 
when  we  again  got  on  our  way,  it  was  in  company 
with  several  others. 

The  wild  beauties  of  the  river  had  not  lost  their 
charms  by  this  glance  at  the  artificial  attractions  of 
a flourishing  town.  The  constantly  interlocking 
promontories  at  each  turn  of  the  river  make  a sail 
up  the  Ohio  appear  like  the  passage  through  an  in- 
terminable chain  of  lakes ; and  the  new  play  of 
lights  and  shades,  occasioned  by  the  sudden  change 
of  the  river’s  course,  prevents  its  charms  from  be- 
coming monotonous.  I am  now  about  five  hundred 
miles  from  its  mouth,  and  could  the  waning  moon- 
beams that  for  so  many  nights  have  silvered  its 
beautiful  tide  but  play  there  for  a month  to  come, 
I could  float  on  thus  for  ever.  Among  my  few  fel- 
low passengers  are  two  or  three  ladies,  to  whom  I 
ought  before  to  have  acknowledged  myself  indebted. 
A passionate  lover  of  nature,  like  your  friend,  meets 
with  few  to  sympathize  fully  in  his  tastes  ; but  I 
have  ever  observed,  that  as  among  women  one  finds 
the  quickest  perception  of  the  ludicrous  in  charac- 
ter, it  is  to  them,  too,  you  must  look  for  the  readiest 

foundry,  cotton-factory,  &c.  in  the  place.  The  canal  which  con- 
nects the  town  with  the  river  below  the  Falls  is  about  two  miles 
long ; it  is  sufficiently  deep  to  admit  the  largest  steam-boats,  when 
the  river  is  high  enough  for  them  to  run.  It  has  four  locks,  and 
overcomes  a fall  of  twenty- two  feet.  The  cost  of  constructing  it  is 
estimated  at  730,000  dollars.  The  position  of  Louisville  is  about 
38°  18'  north,  and  8Q  42'  west  from  Washington.  It  is  1448  miles, 
by  the  river,  above  JNew-Orleans,  and  five  hundred  and  fifty-nine 
miles  from  Washington  city. 


108 


A FRONTIER  TRADITION. 


appreciation  of  what  is  beautiful  in  nature  or  deli- 
cate in  art.  Their  sensibilities,  indeed,  are  not  so 
deep,  but  their  sympathies  are  keener  and  more 
quickly  awakened  than  those  of  men  ; and  the  same 
vividness  of  apprehension  which  makes  them  jump 
to  a conclusion  in  an  argument,  while  our  sluggish 
minds  are  toiling  through  the  preliminary  demon- 
stration, exhibits  itself  alike  in  detecting  an  absurdi- 
ty in  manners,  or  snatching  a fleeting  charm  in  the 
landscape  from  forgetfulness. 

We  have  now  passed  the  Miami,  the  last  of  the 
larger  tributaries  of  the  Ohio  below  Cincinnati,  and 
our  steamer  will  soon  bring  to  at  the  mouth  of  the 
Licking  River,  opposite  to  that  town.  Both  of 
these  streams  are  famous  in  border-story ; but  the 
latter,  from  being  opposite  to  old  Fort  Washington, 
upon  whose  site  Cincinnati  is  built,  has  so  many 
frontier  traditions  connected  with  it,  that  I cannot, 
perhaps,  more  agreeably  conclude  this  letter  than 
with  one  of  them.  It  is  an  oft-told  story  of  the 
singular  preservation  of  two  wounded  men,  who 
encountered  each  other  in  the  thick  forests  whose 
shadows  formerly  darkened  the  river  at  this  point, 
after  an  Indian  fight  near  the  mouth  of  the  Licking. 
These  sole  survivors  of  a bloody  fray  had  each  been 
disabled  in  a contest  which  was  fatal  to  their  com- 
panions. One  had  been  shot  through  the  hips,  so 
as  temporarily  to  paralyse  both  his  legs ; the  other 
had  both  arms  broken ; yet  each,  after  being  struck 
down  in  the  heat  of  the  fight,  had  managed  to 
crawl  into  an  adjacent  thicket,  and  so  effectually 
to  conceal  himself,  that  the  savages  who  had  as 


TRYING  SITUATION. 


109 


sailed  their  party,  after  scalping  the  fallen,  departed 
and  left  their  retreat  uninvaded.  Many  hours  in- 
tervened, and  apprehension  kept  each  of  the  wound- 
ed men  so  silent  that  he  was  wholly  unaware  of  the 
vicinity  or  even  the  existence  of  the  other.  At 
length,  he  who  had  the  use  of  his  arms,  being 
pinched  with  hunger,  ventured  to  shoot  a rackoon 
which  wandered  near  him.  His  former  comrade 
called  out  at  the  report  of  the  gun ; but  the  other, 
fearing  some  Indian  wile,  refused  to  answer  until 
the  man  presented  himself  before  him.  Mutual 
gratulation  of  course  ensued ; and  then  he  that  had 
the  use  of  his  legs  kicked  the  rackoon  towards  the 
other,  who,  having  flayed  and  cooked  it,  fed  his 
companion.  Their  situation  for  pioneers  after  a 
battle  seemed  tolerably  comfortable  ! but,  unable  to 
move  from  his  sitting  posture,  he  that  was  wounded 
in  the  hips  must  have  perished  from  thirst,  if  the 
other,  who  was  deprived  of  the  use  of  his  hands, 
had  not  taken  his  hat  in  his  mouth,  and,  wading  to 
his  chin  in  the  river,  dipped  up  a cooling  draught  for 
his  feverish  friend.  In  this  condition  they  are  said 
to  have  remained  for  more  than  ten  days  ; the  walk- 
ing gentleman  driving  turkeys  and  other  game  near 
enough  for  the  sitter  to  shoot,  and  the  sitting  gentle- 
man cooking  the  meals  which  the  walker  thus  pro- 
vided— the  latter  in  the  mean  time  carrying  the  hat 
to  the  river  as  regularly  as  a bucket  to  a well.  Ul- 
timately a boat  descending  the  Ohio  relieved  them 
from  their  mutual  offices,  and  both  are  said  to  have 
afterward  recovered.* 

* Metcalf’s  Indian  Ware, 

k2 


110 


CINCINNATI. 


•v. 


m , # 

LETTER  XXX. 


Cincinnati — Society — Sportsmen  and  Litterateurs — Public  Build- 
ings— Influence  of  the  Drama — Slaughter-houses — Hog-killing — 
Kentuckians  and  New-Englanders. 

Cincinnati,  Ohio,  April  3,  1834. 

It  was  a still  sunny  morning,  when,  in  rounding 
one  of  those  beautiful  promontories  which  form  so 
striking  a feature  in  the  scenery  of  the  Ohio,  we 
came  suddenly  upon  a cluster  of  gardens  and  villas, 
which  indicated  the  vicinity  of  a flourishing  town ; 
and  our  boat  taking  a sudden  sheer  from  the  shore, 
before  the  eye  had  time  to  study  out  their  grouping 
and  disposition,  the  whole  city  of  Cincinnati,  em- 
bosomed in  its  amphitheatre  of  green  hills,  was 
brought  at  once  before  us.  It  rises  on  two  inclined 
planes  from  the  river,  the  one  elevated  about  fifty 
feet  above  the  other,  and  both  running  parallel  to 
the  Ohio.  The  streets  are  broad,  occasionally  lined 
with  trees,  and  generally  well  built  of  brick,  though 
there  are  some  pretty  churches  and  noble  private 
dwellings  of  cut  stone  and  of  stucco.  Of  the  latter 
there  are  several  with  greater  pretensions  to  archi- 
tectural beauty  than  any  which  I remember  in  New- 
York.  The  first  impression  upon  touching  the 
quays  at  Cincinnati,  and  looking  up  its  spacious 
avenues,  terminating  always  in  the  green  acclivities 


CINCINNATI. 


Ill 


which  bound  the  city,  is  exceedingly  beautiful ; and 
your  good  opinion  of  the  town  suffers  no  diminu- 
tion when  you  have  an  opportunity  to  examine  its 
well-washed  streets  and  tasteful  private  residences. 
Of  the  rides  and  walks  in  the  suburbs  I cannot 
speak  too  warmly  ; the  girdle  of  green  hills  already 
spoken  of,  on  some  of  which  the  primeval  growth 
of  the  forest  still  lingers  in  a clump  of  aged]  trees, 
command  some  of  the  most  beautiful  views  you  can 
imagine  of  the  opposite  shores  of  Kentucky,  with 
the  two  pretty  manufacturing  villages  on  either  side 
of  the  Licking  River,  which  debouches  opposite  to 
Cincinnati.  Cincinnati  herself,  with  her  twenty 
gilded  Spires  gleaming  among  gardens  and  shrub- 
bery, lies  as  if  spread  upon  a map  beneath  you; 
while,  before  attaining  this  commanding  height,  you 
have  already  been  rewarded,  when  winding  up  the 
steep  ascent,  by  a hundred  charming  glimpses  of 
groves  and  villas,  scattered  along  the  banks  of  the 
beautiful  Ohio.  Verily,  if  beauty  alone  confer  em- 
pire, it  is  in  vain  for  thriving  Pittsburg  or  flourish- 
ing Louisville,  bustling  and  buxom  as  they  are,  to 
dispute  with  Cincinnati  her  title  of  “ Queen  of  the 
West.” 

The  population  of  the  place  is  about  thirty  thou- 
sand. Among  them  you  see  very  few  who  look  not 
comfortable  and  contented,  though  the  town  does 
not  wear  the  brisk  and  busy  air  observable  at  Louis- 
ville. Transportation  is  so  easy  along  the  great 
western  waters,  that  you  see  no  lounging  poor 
people  about  the  large  towns,  as,  when  business 
languishes  in  one  place,  and  it  is  difficult  to  find  oc- 


112 


SOCIETY. 


cupation,  they  are  off  at  once  to  another,  and  shift 
their  quarters  whither  the  readiest  means  of  living 
invite  them.  What  would  most  strike  you  in  the 
streets  of  Cincinnati  would  be  the  number  of  pretty 
faces  and  stylish  figures  one  meets  in  a morning. 
I have  had  more  than  one  opportunity  of  seeing 
these  western  beauties  by  candlelight,  and  the 
evening  display  brought  no  disappointment  to  the 
morning  promise.  Nothing  can  be  more  agreeable 
than  the  society  which  one  meets  with  in  the  gay 
and  elegantly  furnished  drawing-rooms  of  Cincin- 
nati ; the  materials  being  from  every  state  in  the 
Union,  there  is  a total  want  of  caste , a complete 
absence  of  settishness  (if  I may  use  the  word).  If 
there  be  any  characteristic  that  might  jar  upon  your 
taste  and  habits,  it  is,  perhaps,  a want  of  that  har- 
monious blending  of  light  and  shade,  that  repose 
both  of  character  and  manner,  which,  distinguishing 
the  best  circles  in  our  Atlantic  cities,  so  often  sinks 
into  insipidity,  or  runs  into  a ridiculous  imitation  of 
the  impertinent  nonchalance  which  the  pseudo  pic- 
tures of  English  “high  life”  in  the  novels  of  the 
day  impose  upon  our  simple  republicans  as  the 
height  of  elegance  and  refinement.  There  is  a 
common  phrase  in  the  new  settlements  of  the 
West — “We  all  come  from  someplace  or  ano- 
ther,”— which  you  may  imagine  to  be  particularly 
applicable  to  a place  that  only  dates  from  the  year 
of  our  Lord  1808 ; and  it  is  therefore  in  the  highest 
degree  absurd  to  speak  of  the  Cincinnatians  as  a 
provincial  people  in  their  manners,  when  the  most 
agreeable  persons  that  figure  here  hail  originally 


SPORTSMEN  AND  LITTERATEURS. 


113 


from  New-York  or  Philadelphia,  Boston  and  Balti- 
more, and  are  very  tenacious  of  the  style  of  living 
in  which  they  have  been  educated. 

I need  hardly  add,  that  the  picture  of  life  and 
manners  here  by  an  exceedingly  clever  English 
caricaturist  has  about  as  much  vrai- semblance  as  if 
the  beaux  and  belles  of  Kamschatka  had  sat  for 
the  portraits. 

I have  been  here  now  nearly  ten  days,  and 
scarcely  an  hour  has  passed  without  some  gay  and 
agreeable  engagement. 

A literary  soiree  and  a sporting-club  dinner 
would,  perhaps,  be  two  of  the  most  characteristic 
circles  into  which  I could  carry  you,  but  descrip- 
tion would  do  nothing  without  the  music  that  gave 
variety  to  the  spirit  of  the  one,  or  the  delicious 
birds  that  lent  a relish  to  the  jokes  of  the  other. 
As  you  may  imagine,  I was  mtich  more  at  home 
among  the  sportsmen  than  the  litterateurs ; with 
the  latter,  in  fact,  I opened  my  lips  but  once  in  a 
learned  discussion,  and  was  so  frightened  at  the 
sound  of  my  own  voice,  that  I took  the  earliest  op- 
portunity to  escape  from  the  premises.  I have 
never  affected  cliques  of  any  kind — literary,  fa- 
shionable, or  political.  Society  is  a salad,  which 
to  relish  must  be  mixed  from  a variety  of  ingre- 
dients. 

The  principal  buildings  of  Cincinnati,  besides 
more  than  twenty  churches,  some  of  which  are 
very  pretty,  and  several  fine  hotels,  one  of  which, 
the  Pearl-street  House,  would  rival  the  best  in 
New-York,  are  the  Cincinnati  College,  a couple  of 


114 


PUBLIC  BUILDINGS. 


theatres,  four  market-houses,  one  of  which  is  five 
hundred  feet  in  length,  a court-house, -United  States’ 
Branch  Bank,  Medical  College,  Mechanics’  Insti- 
tute, the  Catholic  Athenaeum,  the  hospital,  and 
high-school,  and  two  museums.  The  collection 'of 
dhe  of  these  museums  is  exceedingly  interesting, 
from  embracing  a number  of  enormous  organic  re- 
mains among  its  curiosities,  with  antique  vases  and 
various  singular  domestic  utensils,  excavated  from 
some  of  the  ancient  mounds  in  Ohio.  In  the  upper 
story  of  the  same  building  there  is  another  exhibi- 
tion, which,  from  the  accounts  I have  had  of  it,  I 
should  hardly  expect  to  be  patronised  in  so  en- 
lightened a community:  it  is  nothing  less  than  a 
nightly  representation  of  the  final  place  of  torment 
in  the  other  world,  with  all  the  agreeable  accompa- 
niments that  the  imaginations  of  the  vulgar  delight 
in  conceiving  as  belonging  to  it. 

A.  very  respectable  man,  whom  I chanced  to  meet 
with  long  before  reaching  here,  mentioned  to  me 
the  existence  of  this  piece  of  charlatanism,  and 
dwelt  upon  it  with  great  unction,  from  the  “ good 
moral  effect  it  would  produce  !”  Now,  is  it  not  sur- 
prising that  the  very  persons  who  condemn  theatri- 
cal representations  are  those  of  all  others  to  coun- 
tenance such  gross  and  impious  humbug?  The 
success  of  such  disgraceful  mummery  is,  perhaps, 
the  strongest  argument  that  could  be  adduced  in 
favour  of  a well-regulated  stage.  A passion  for 
dwelling  on  the  mimic  world,  presented  by  the 
drama,  seems  almost  inherent  in  our  nature  ; like  all 
other  strong  predispositions,  it  is  probably  given  for 


INFLUENCE  OF  THE  DRAMA.' 


115 


some  useful  purpose ; and  its  perversion  alone  can 
be  injurious.  Indeed,  there  is  no  public  diversion 
that  could  be  devised  more  openly  and  immediately 
answerable  to  public  opinion  than  the  stage,  or  that 
can  be  more  effectually  restrained  and  regulated  by 
the  presence  of  the  judicious  ; but  if  the  moral  and 
discriminating  choose  to  think  it  beneath  them  to 
watch  over  and  guard  it,  the  trifling  and  the  vicious 
will  assume  its  management.  You  may  talk,  indeed, 
of  putting  it  down  entirely ; but,  alas  for  him  who 
would  put  a padlock  on  a safety  valve,  or  dam  the 
current  of  folly  without  leaving  a sluice-way  !— the 
steam  that  sings  so  quiet  a tune  by  his  parlour-fire 
may  yet,  when  too  closely  pent,  blow  him  to  atoms; 
and  the  torrent  to  which  he  would  deny  an  open 
outlet  will  ooze  through  a hundred  hidden  crevices, 
and  sap  the  fabric  he  has  built  to  restrain  it. 

The  most  remarkable,  however,  of  all  the  esta- 
blishments of  Cincinnati,  are  those  immense  slaugh- 
ter-houses, where  the  business  of  butchering  and 
packing  pork  is  carried  on.  The  number  of  hogs 
annually  slaughtered  is  said  to  exceed  one  hundred 
and  twenty  thousand ; and  the  capital  employed  in 
the  business  is  estimated  at  two  millions  of  dollars. 
Some  of  the  establishments  cover  several  acres  of 
ground ; and  one  of  the  packing-houses,  built  of 
brick,  and  three  stories  high,  is  more  than  a hundred 
feet  long,  and  proportionably  wide.  The  minute 
division  of  labour  and  the  fearful  celerity  of  execu- 
tion in  these  swinish  workshops  would  equally  de- 
light a pasha  and  a political  economist ; for  it  is 
the  mode  in  which  the  business  is  conducted,  rather 


116 


SLAUGHTER  HOUSES. 


than  its  extent,  which  gives  dignity  to  hog-killing 
in  Cincinnati,  and  imparts  a tragic  interest  to  the 
last  moments  of  the  doomed  porkers,  that  might 
inspire  the  savage  genius  of  a Maturin  or  a Monk 
Lewis.  Imagine  a long  narrow  edifice,  divided  into 
various  compartments,  each  communicating  with  the 
other,  and  each  furnished  with  some  peculiar  and 
appropriate  engine  of  destruction.  In  one  you  see 
a gory  block  and  gleaming  axe  ; a seething  cal- 
dron nearly  fills  another.  The  walls  of  a third 
bristle  with  hooks  newly  sharpened  for  impale- 
ment ; while  a fourth  is  shrouded  in  darkness,  that 
leaves  you  to  conjure  up  images  still  more  dire. 
There  are  forty  ministers  of  fate  distributed  through- 
out these  gloomy  abodes,  each  with  his  particular 
office  assigned  him.  And  here,  when  the  fearful 
carnival  comes  on,  and  the  deep  forests  of  Ohio 
have  contributed  their  thousands  of  unoffending 
victims,  the  gantlet  of  death  is  run  by  those  se- 
lected for  immolation  The  scene  commences  in 
the  shadowy  cell,  whose  gloom  we  have  not  yet 
been  allowed  to  penetrate.  Fifty  unhappy  porkers 
are  here  incarcerated  at  once  together,  with  bodies 
wedged  so  closely  that  they  are  incapactiated  from 
all  movement.  And  now  the  grim  executioner — 
like  him  that  battled  with  the  monster  that  wooed 
Andromeda — leaps  with  his  iron  mace  upon  their 
backs,  and  rains  his  ruthless  blows  around  him. 
The  unresisting  victims  fall  on  every  side ; but 
scarcely  does  one  touch  the  ground,  before  he  is 
seized  by  a greedy  hook  protruded  through  an 
orifice  below.  His  throat  is  severed  instantly  in 


HOG  KILLING. 


117 


the  adjacent  cell,  and  the  quivering  body  is  hurried 
onward,  as  if  the  hands  of  the  Furies  tossed  it 
through  the  frightful  suite  of  chambers.  The  mallet 
— the  knife— the  axe— the  boiling  caldron — the  re- 
morseless scraping  iron — have  each  done  their  work ; 
and  the  fated  porker,  that  was  but  one  minute  before 
grunting  in  the  full  enjoyment  of  bristling  hoghood, 
now  cadaverous  and  “ chap-fallen,” hangs  a stark  and 

naked  effigy  among  his  immolated  brethren.* 

, ' * , 

* The  Cincinnati  correspondent  of  a Baltimore  paper  mentions 
in  a letter  which  appeared  while  this  sheet  was  going  through  the 
press,  that  “ The  whole  number  of  hogs  killed  last  year,  in  the  city 
and  vicinity,  is  ascertained  to  be  a . little  rising  one  hundred  and 
twenty -three  thousand.  Deer  Creek  is  a stream  running  into  the 
Ohio  River  on  the  eastern  suburb  of  the  city.  About  half  a mile  up 
this  stream  the  slaughter-houses  of  Mr.  Coleman  are  situated ; and 
during  the  whole  ‘ hog  season,’  this  stream,  from  the  houses  to  the 
river,  is  running  blood,  and  generally  goes  by  the  name  of  the 
{ Bloody  River.’ 

“ From  the  slaughter-houses,  the  hogs  are  conveyed  in  large 
wagons,  that  hold  from  twenty-five  to  forty,  to  the  various  packing- 
houses, where  they  can  pack,  and  have  ready  for  shipment,  two 
hundred  and  fifty  barrels  of  pork  in  one  day.  It  is,  indeed, 
astonishing,  the  rapidity  with  which  they  put  a hog  out  of  sight, 
when  once  they  get  fair  hold  of  him.  As  at  the  slaughter-houses,  a 
perfect  system  is  kept  up ; every  man  has  his  allotted  duty  to  per- 
form, and  there  is  consequently  no  interference  with  each  other; 
everythifig  goes  on  like  ‘clock  work.’  When  the  hogs  are  received, 
they  are  first  weighed  by  the  weigher,  then  passed  to  the  ‘ blocking- 
men,’ who  place  them  on  the  several  blocks  (two  are  generally  used,) 
when  they  are  received  by  the  ‘ cutters'  and  are  very  quickly  de- 
spatched— the  various  qualities  separated  and  thrown  into  their 
respective  places.  One  man  weighs  for  the.  barrels  (two  hundred 
pounds,)  and  throws  the  meat  into  a ‘ salt-box'  from  which  the 
1 packer3  receives  it;  and  when  the  barrel  is  packed,  it  is  handed 
over  to  the  ‘ cooper,’  who  heads  it.  It  is  then  bored,  filled  with 
strong  brine,  plugged,  branded,  and  ready  for  shipment.” 


VOL.  II. L 


118  KENTUCKIANS  AND  NEW  ENGLANDERS. 

There  is  more  of  eastern  than  of  western  genius — 
of  the  Yankee  rather  than  the  Kentuckian — in  this 
systematic  establishment,  where  the  coarsest  em- 
ployment is  thus*  reduced  to  mathematical  preci- 
sion. Indeed,  the  mechanical  regularity,  the  neat- 
ness, and  the  enterprise  of  New  England  characterize 
the  people  of  Ohio  generally,  and  constitute  a 
marked  difference  between  them  and  their  neigh- 
bours over  the  river.  The  Kentuckians  are  chiefly 
descended  from  military  men  and  hunters,  who 
settled  the  broad  and  fertile  tracts  now  so  populous, 
during  and  shortly  subsequent  to  the  revolution ; 
and  wheresoever  they  wander  in  the  far  west,  they 
are  still  distinguished  by  the  traits  that  would 
naturally  spring  from  such  an  origin.  There  is  an 
off-handedness— if  I may  use  the  term — a fearless 
ardour,  a frankness  and  self-possession  about  them 
that  engages  your  good-will  at  once  ; while  you  are 
both  interested  and  amused  at  the  exaggerated  tone 
of  sentiment,  half  romantic,  half  vain-glorious, 
which  their  ideas  and  expressions  betray.  Judging, 
however,  from  the  occasional  specimens  X have 
seen,  I should  think  that  though  individually  the 
most  characteristic  and  interesting  people  in  the 
Union,  they  are  by  no  means  such  useful  members 
of  society  as  the  New  Englanders.  Indeed,  it  has 
more  than  once  occurred  to  me,  when  I have  seen 
two  of  these  ultra  specimens  of  the  eastern  and  the 
western  man  settled  down  on  the  same  prairie  be- 
side each  other,  that  though  entirely  different,  there 
could  be  no  better  representatives  of  genuine  Ameri- 
can character  among  the  foreign  emigrants  whose 


a boatman’s  panegyric.  119 

cabins  clustered  around  them.  They  are  both 
sprung  from  a stock  so  ancient,  and  so  slightly 
adulterated  by  European  intermixture  since  the 
pilgrims  first  landed  at  Plymouth  and  the  followers 
of  Raleigh  touched  the  shores  of  Virginia,  that  they 
represent  the  only  homogeneous  population  on  the 
continent.  The  southern  parts  of  Ohio  and  Illinois 
are  settled  in  a greaj  measure  by  Kentuckians ; 
but  before  I write  to  you  again  I shall  have  some 
opportunity  of  studying  them  in  their  own  country. 


LETTER  XXXI. 

A Boatman’s  Panegyric — Leave  Cincinnati — Road  Companions 
— Kentuckian  Civility — Slavery — Youthful  Mourner — Morning 
Scene — Lexington. 

Lexington,  Kentucky,  April  7th,  1834. 

“ No,  stranger,  there’s  no  place  on  the  universal 
’arth  like  old  Kaintuck  : she  whips  all  ‘ Out-west’ 
in  prettiness ; and  you  might  bile  down  cr’ation 
and  not  get  such  another  state  out  of  it.” 

Thus  eloquently  discoursed  the  boatman  who 
ferried  me  over  the  Ohio  a day  or  two  since ; and 
I confess  that  the  fellow’s  panegyric  upon  his  native 
state  made  me  congratulate  myself  upon  having 
extended  my  tour  in  this  direction,  and  on  the 
means  I had  adopted  for  meeting  more  often  with 
originals  like  himself.  Travelling  on  horseback  is 


120 


LEAVE  CINCINNATI, 


the  best  mode  of  seeing  both  the  scenery  and  the 
people  of  the  western  country ; and  having  bought 
a good  hackney  at  Cincinnati,  I promise  myself 
much  pleasure  from  this  part  of  my  western  tour. 
My  route  will  lead  south-eastwardly  through  Ken- 
tucky as  far  as  the  mountainous  parts  of  Tennessee, 
from  which  state  I shall  enter  Virginia  on  its  south- 
west corner,  and  finally  take  my  way  to  the  north 
along  the  eastern  base  of  the  Alleghanies. 

It  was  a beautiful  day,  that  on  which  I left  Cin- 
cinnati ; and  when,  after  crossing  the  Ohio  at  noon, 
I found  myself  upon  the  Kentucky  bank  of  the 
river,  and  checked  my  horse  to  look  back  for  a 
moment  upon  the  noble  town  and  the  fair  stream 
that  bathed  its  walls,  I could  not  but  admit  that  the 
amphitheatre  of  gieen  hills  opposite  to  me  did  really 
shut  in  “ The  Pride  of  the  West,”  if  not  the  most 
beautiful  city  in  the  Union.  But  I confess  I was 
not  sorry  to  escape  from  its  elegant  and  profuse 
hospitalities,  and  to  find  myself  once  more  on  horse- 
back and  alone,  free  to  rove  wherever  fancy  or 
caprice  should  lead  me.  The  “voice  of  spring” 
had  long  been  abroad  in  the  land,  and  the  perfume 
of  blossoms  and  flowers  that  met  my  senses  as  I 
rode  by  the  scattered  gardens  in  the  little  town  of 
Covington,  seemed  to  rebuke  the  taste  which  had 
kept  me  so  long  within  a city’s  walls.  From  a 
green  knoll  on  the  edge  of  the  village  I took  my 
last  look  of  the  beautiful  Ohio,  and  then  pausing 
vainly  a moment  to  catch  the  words  of  a song  which 
a young  girl  was  warbling  to  her  piano  in  a pretty 
cottage  near,  I struck  down  the  side  of  a grassy 


ROAD  COMPANIONS. 


121 


slope,  and  crossing  a brook,  soon  found  myself 
riding  through  a tall  wood  on  the  high-road  to  Lex- 
ington. The  evening  soon  after  closing  in,  left  me 
but  little  opportunity  of  observing  the  country, 
which  appeared  to  be  generally  heavily  wooded, 
and  broken  up.  into  undulations  so  short  and  frequent 
as  to  make  the  office  of  ploughing  the  hill-sides  no 
sinecure.  The  aspect  of  a broken  country  wras  so 
agreeable  to  me,  however,  after  being  so  long  upon 
the  prairies,  that  I was  not  sorry  to  find  but  little 
alteration  in  the  scenery,  when  I arose  and  advanced 
upon  my  journey  the  next  morning.  But  for  the 
present  I was  no  longer  solitary.  I had  not  got  a 
hundred  yards  from  the  house  where  I passed  the 
night,  before  I heard  a voice  from  an  enclosure 
near  the  road  calling  out,  “ Halloo ! stranger ; I 
reckon  you  and  I are  cutting  out  for  the  same  place  ; 
so  hold  on  a bit,  and  you  shall  have  some  company.” 
But  before  this  considerate  traveller  could  gain  the 
road,  I wras  overtaken  by  a young  man  of  genteel 
appearance,  who  at  once  drew  up  by  my  side  and 
entered  into  easy  conversation,  according  to  the 
custom  of  the  country.  After  riding  a mile  or  two 
together,  he  asked  me  if  I would'  eat  an  apple,  and, 
upon  expressing  assent,  instead  of  drawing  the  fruit 
from  his  pocket,  or  saddle-bags,  as  I expected,  I 
was  not  a little  surprised  to  see  him  stop  in  front  of 
a respectable  looking  house,  and  halloo  till  half  a 
dozen  negroes  made  their  appearance  from  the  log- 
cabins  around  the  door.  “ Aunty,”  cried  my  coim 
panion,  to  an  active  looking  wench  who  advanced 
before  the  rest,  “ has  your  master  got  any  apples  in 

l 2 


122  KENTUCKIAN  CIVILITY. 

the  house  ? — “ Only  a few  barrels  left,  young  mas- 
ter.”— “Well,  then,  bring  us  a dozen.”  A large 
basket,  containing  as  many  of  the  finest  pippins  as 
we  could  stow  about  our  persons,  was,  a moment 
after,  brought  to  the  road-side  and  held  up  to  us,  as 
we  sat  on  horseback ; and,  after  dividing  the  con- 
tents between  us,  I was  very  naturally  about  to  pay 
for  them,  but  the  young  gentleman  told  me  that  I 
should  only  insult  a decent  farmer’s  family  (not  a 
soul  of  whom  was  known  to  him)  by  paying  for 
what  “no  Kentuckian  would  be  brute  enough  to 
refuse  a stranger.” 

My  companion  soon  after  parted  from  me,  and 
entering  a deep  wood,  I was  so  much  engaged  in 
listening  to  the  mellow  whistle  of  the  red-d)ird,  and 
marking  the  shrubs  and  flowers  that  were  putting 
forth  their  virgin  blossoms  around  me,  that  I in- 
sensibly deviated  from  the  turnpike  (so  called,)  and 
took  a road  which,  after  an  hour’s  riding  through 
a romantic  forest,  brought  me  up  at  last  by  a mill, 
where  I learned  how  many  miles  I had  wandered 
from  tire  way.  The  beautifully  secluded  dell 
through  which  my  path  now  led  in  recovering  the 
main  road,  left  me  nothing  to  regret  in  having  thus 
added  to  my  journey.  It  was  watered  by  a deep 
brook,  along  whose  steep  banks  the  red-bud  and 
the  wild  plum  put  forth  their  delicate  blossoms  in 
rich  profusion,  and  the  various  singing  birds.,  which 
the  glare  of  noon  had  driven  from  the  road-side  and 
open  fields  far  into  the  forest,  kept  here  the  woods 
alive  with  music. 

My  path,  at  first  but  little  more  than  a wood- 


YOUTHFUL  MOURNER, 


123 


man’s  trail,  widened  at  last  into  something  like  a 
wagon-road ; and  I came  finally  to  a number  of 
log  cabins,  scattered  along  the  road  at  some  dis- 
tance from  each  other.  Near  one  of  them,  I was 
not  a little  struck  at.  seeing  an  old  gray-headed 
negro  ploughing  the  few  acres  which  surrounded 
the  miserable  shantee,  while  a stout,  hale-looking 
fellow  of  forty  was  lounging  indolently  in  his  rude 
and  dirty  doorway.  It  was  the  first  object  I had 
seen  to  remind  me  unpleasantly  that  I was  now  in 
a slave  State. 

A pretty  cottage,  with  some  shrubbery  around  it, 
stood  near  the  spot  where  I regained  the  highway 
towards  sunset;  and  near  at  hand  was  a small 
grave-yard,  protected  from  the  road  by  a slight 
fence,  with  a rank  growth  of  weeds  along  its  bor- 
der. Pausing  a moment  to  observe  the  various 
rude  memorials  to  the  dead,  that  reared  their  gray 
heads  in  the  yellow  sunlight,  my  attention  was 
fixed  by  a young  fair-haired  girl  of  sixteen,  kneel- 
ing by  the  side  of  a new  made  grave,  and  bending 
her  head  towards  the  recent  sod,  apparently  in  an 
attitude  of  prayer.  Upon  looking  more  narrowly, 
however,  I discovered  that  she  was  only  engaged 
in  planting  . flowers  around  a spot  which  was 
probably  hallowed  in  her  affections.  Her  bonnet 
was  thrown  back  upon  her  shoulders ; and  there 
was  nothing  to  skreen  her  features  from  view 
except  the  long  hair  which  waved  in  locks  of  gold 
on  either  side  of  her  pensive  countenance,  which — - 
so  intently  was  she  bent  upon  her  graceful  task — 
was  only  completely  exposed  when  she  raised  her 


124 


MY  INN. 


head,  as  if  startled  by  the  sound  of  my  horse’s 
hoofs,  as  I moved  from  the  spot. 

The  evening  had  completely  settled  in  upon  the 
lower  grounds,  as  I looked  from  an  eminence 
down  into  the  little  valley  whence  rose  the  white 
chimneys  of  the  house  where  I was  to  pass  the 
night.  It  stood  in  straggling  and  broken  form,  one 
story  in  height,  on  the  margin  of  a lively  brook, 
which  rattled  along  the  base  of  the  hill;  the  various 
buildings  comprehended  in  the  mansion  making 
quite  an  imposing  appearance  as  they  extended 
their  low  and  irregular  front  along  the  road-side. 
There  was  a fence  of  rough  slabs,  whitewashed, 
about  ten  feet  in  front  of  the  porch,  with  a number 
of  logs  of  different  lengths  placed  upright  near  it, 
to  answer  the  double  purpose  of  a horse-block  to 
mount  from  and  a stile  to  cross  the  fence  with.  A 
limping  gray-headed  negro  received  my  horse  at 
the  door,  while  the  landloid  took  my  saddle-bags, 
and  ushered  me  into  a wainscoted  and  white- 
washed chamber,  where  another  traveller,  who  had 
arrived  but  a few  minutes  before  me,  was  comfort- 
ing himself  with  the  contents  of  a pitcher  of  cider, 
which  stood  at  his  elbow.  “ Come,  sir,  come,”  he 
exclaimed  upon  my  entrance  ; “ come,  sir,  take  a 
drink ; this  cider  goes  very  well  after  an  evening 
ride.” — “ Help  yourself,  stranger,”  added  the  land- 
lord, “ while  I tote  your  plunder*  into  the  other 

« 

* This  use  of  the  term  cc  plunder”  sounds  whimsical  to  a northern 
ear,  but  the  derivation  of  the  word  (from  the  Flemish  jdunderen, 
signifying  property,)  implies  the  meaning  that  it  has  upon  the 


MORNING  SCENE, 


125 


room.’!  Then,  while  I joined  the  cider-drinker  in 
his  thin  potations,  the  landlord  soon  returned,  and 
finding  that  my  immediate  destination  was  Lex- 
ington, he  told  me,  with  an  air  of  great  satisfaction, 
that  “I  should  have  company  all  the  way,  for  that 
that  gentleman  was  going  on  in  the  morning.” 
The  other,  a plain  farmer,  with  whom  I had  now 
exchanged  some  common-places  about  agriculture, 
which  nearly  exhausted  my  stock  of  information 
on  that  subject,  rejoined  with  animation  that  he 
was  very  glad  I was  going  his  wray,  as  “he  allowed 
the  gentleman  to  be  right  good  company,  and  he 
did  not  mistrust  but  what  we’d  have  a tip-top  time 
of  it.”  ' 

The  faintest  streakings  of  dawn  were  hardly 
perceptible  in  the  east  when  our  horses  were 
brought  to  the  door  the  next  morning ; and  mount- 
ing by  the  light  of  the  young  moon,  which  showed 
like  a mere  gash  in  the  blue  vesture  of  heaven,  we 
moved  in  a brisk  trot  from  the  door  of  the  hos- 
telrie.  The  twilight  seemed  to  be  losing  its  som- 
breness <16  we  gained  the  top  of  the  opposite  hill ; 
and  then  entering  a wood  of  ancient  beeches,  the 
chirp  of  the  gray  squirrel,  and  the  grating  call  of 
the  ma-ma-twa,*  or  cat-bird,  impatient  to  commence 
his  morning  song,  rivalling  in  sweetness  the  finest 
music  of  the  woods,  foretold  the  appioach  of  day  : 
and,  indeed,  the  sun  was  already  up,  and  the  wfild 
bee  humming  around  the  blossoms  of  a majestic 

/:  * " V'  \ , 

western  waters ; and  a similar  phraseology  is  familiar  to  us  from  the 

Canadian  “ butin” 


126 


ENVIRONS  OF  GEORGETOWN. 


tulip-tree,  as  we  emerged  from  the  forest  beneath 
its  gnarled  branches,  that  extended  across  the  road, 
and  framed  in  a miniature  view  of  cultivated 
country  below  us,  whose  aspect  beneath  the  up- 
rising sun  was  perfectly  delicious.  “Save  your 
praises,  stranger,  until  you  get  twenty  miles  nearer 
to  Lexington,”  cried  my  companion,  as  I gave 
loose  to  my  admiration  and  delight  in  no  measured 
terms.  The  scenery  of  this  part  of  Kentucky 
reminded  me  much  of  that  in  the  eastern  section  of 
Putnam  county,  in  the  State  of  New-York.  There 
were  the  same  abrupt  hills,  cultivated  apparently 
to  the  utmost,  wherever  their  inclination  was  not 
too  great  for  the  plough,  and  having  all  their  steep 
places  covered  with  a vigorous  growth  of  forest 
trees,  while  at  every  interval  between  their  bases 
some  saucy  brook  would  make  its  presence  known 
as  it  capered  along  over  the  stones  that  paved  its 
path  to  some  more  majestic  and  tranquil  stream. 

It  was  high  noon  when  I approached  the  envi- 
rons of  Georgetown,  and  looked  down  from  an 
eminence  on  the  banks  of  the  Elkhorn-*-a  pretty 
winding  stream  about  fifty  yards  wide: — upon  its 
beautiful  race-course.  It  was  a large  meadow  of 
the  finest  and  firmest  turf,  studded'  here  and  there 
with  noble  elms  and  sycamores,  the  original  growth 
of  the  forest,  and  having  two  sides  bounded  by  the 
river,  while  thickly  enclosed  grounds,  A scattered 
copses,  or  sunny  slopes,  waving  with  new  wheat, 
gave  repose  to  the  eye  upon  the  remaining  two. 
The  town  itself  looked  very  flourishing,  and  ap- 


APPROACH  TO  LEXINGTON. 


127 


peared  to  be  well  built,  chiefly  of  brick ; but  wish- 
ing to  reach  Lexington  early  in  the  evening,  I rode 
directly  through  it. 

The  country  now  became  much  more  level,  and 
the  soil  richer  than  any  I had  seen  since  crossing 
the  Ohio.  The  enclosures,  too,  were  all  in  better 
order  ; and  I now,  for  the  first  time,  saw  some  of 
those  beautiful  wooded  pastures  which,  as  they 
are  the  pride  of  Kentucky,  are  peculiar,  I believe, 
to  this  state.  An  occasional  villa,  imbosomed  in 
trees  and  shrubbery,  was  soon  after  observable. 
The  distance  at  which  they  stood  from  the  road 
indicated  the  taste  of  their  proprietors  in  one  es- 
sential point,  while  it  left  one  to  guess  how  it  had 
displayed  itself  in  others.  The  frequency  of  these 
tasteful  residences  continued  increasing,  until  the 
collection  at  last  assumed  the  appearance  of  a vil- 
lage; and  finally,  after  travelling  a few  hundred 
yards  on  a Macadamized  road,  I found  myself 
riding  over  paved  streets  through  the  beautiful 
town  of  Lexington  ; for  the  various  gardens  and 
shrubbery  around  the  doors  of  the  houses  lead 
you  so  insensibly  into  the  business  parts  of  the 
town,  that  you  are  in  the  heart  of  the  place  before 
becoming  aware  that  you  have  passed  the  suburbs. 
The  town,  which  is  regularly  laid  out  upon  a level 
plat  of  ground,  is  well  built  of  brick  and  wood, 
and  has  the  sidewalks  of  its  broad  streets  almost 
invariably  lined  with  ornamental  trees ; so  that, 
with  the  numerous  vacant  lots  cultivated  as  gar- 
dens, and  in  which,  even  thus  early,  the  song  of 
the  mocking-bird  may  be  heard,  Lexington  ap- 


128 


MY  FELLOW  TRAVELLER. 


proaches  nearer  to  the  rus  in  urbe  than  any  to wn 
of  its  size  that  I have  seen.* 

Soon  after  entering  the  place,  my  fellow-tra- 
veller drew  up  his  horse  by  my  side,  and  observing, 
“We  must  part  here,  perhaps  never  to  meet  again, 
stranger,”  he,  for  the  first  time,  inquired  my  ad- 
dress, with  some  interest,  and  took  a very  kind 
farewell  of  me.  He  was  a plain  and  unpretending 
man,  in  very  moderate  circumstances,  and  spoke 
upon  few  other  subjects  Resides  religion,  slavery, 
and  the  state  of  agriculture  in  Kentucky;  but  the 
attention  with  which  I listened  to  the  exposition  of 
his  views,  while  studying  him  as  a fair  representa- 
tive of  one  of  the  most  important  classes  in  the 
community,  seemed  sufficiently  to  have  won  his 
good  opinion  ; and  I must  say,  that  if  the  yeomanry 
of  Kentucky  are  generally  gifted  with  the  same  con- 
scientiousness and  moderation,  with  equal  liberality 
and  desire  for  improvement;,  they  will  compare  to 
advantage  with  the  cultivators  of  the  soil  in  any 
part  of  the  Union.  Nor  have  I as  yet,  since  cros- 
sing the  Ohio,  met  with  any  of  those  “ half-horse 
and  half-alligator”  characters,  which,  flourishing  for 
a few  years  on  the  banks  of  the  Mississippi,  have 
now  for  the  most  part  withdrawn  themselves  be- 
yond the  frontiers,  or  live  chiefly  in  the  imagination 
of  those  who  confound  the  wrild  boatmen  of  the 
western  waters  with  the  far  different  people  who 
dwell  upon  their  borders. 

I am  now  established  for  a few  days  at  Postle- 


* See  note  I. 


AN  EXCURSION. 


129 


thwaite’s  Hotel,  in  the  centre  of  the  city  of  Lex- 
ington, and  will  give  you  in  my  next  the  result  of 
various  excursions  which  I meditate  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood. 


LETTER  XXXII. 

An  Excursion — Farm  Houses— Hospitality — Herd  of  Elk— The 
Elk  and  Buffalo — Cattle — Capital  of  Kentucky — Beauchamp  and 
his  Wife. 

Frankfort,  Kentucky,  April  9,  1834. 

I was  dining  yesterday  with  some  kind  friends 
in  Lexington  (recent  as  is  our  acquaintance,  their 
warm-hearted  courtesies  render  it  impossible  forme 
to  speak  of  them  less  familiarly),  when  it  was  pro- 
nounced impossible  for  me  to  leave  this  part  of 
Kentucky  without  a peep  at  the  capital,  which  was 

but  a day’s  ride  off.  Accordingly,  as  Mr. , 

whose  name  is  familiar  to  you  as  distinguished  in 
Congress  and  at  the  bar,  was  going  in  the  morning 
to  attend  one  of  the  upper  courts,  now  in  session  at 
this  place,  he  was  at  once  hunted  up,  an  introduc- 
tion procured  me,  and,  after  an  early  breakfast,  we 
started  on  horseback  together.  Our  road  lay  chiefly 
through  a level  fertile  country,  in  a very  good  state 
of  cultivation  ; and  my  companion,  who  is  one  of 
the  most  prominent  planters  and  agriculturists  in 
this  section  of  the  country,  took  great  pleasure  in 

VOL.  II. — M 


130 


FARM  HOUSES. 


pointing  out  to  me  the  most  flourishing  farms,  and 
the  peculiar  growth  of  different  soils,  as  we  rode 
along ; recalling  at  the  same  time,  most  agreeably — 
as  the  railroad,  now  constructing  between  Lexington 
and  Frankfort,  occasionally  intersected  our  route — 
his  early  recollections  of  this  region  before  such  a 
convenience  was  dreamed  of.  The  secluded  ap- 
pearance of  the  farm  houses,  standing  aloof  from 
the  road,  with  meadows,  fields,  and  groves  inter- 
vening, struck  me  very  pleasingly ; and  about  noon, 
passing  the  gate  of  an  extensive  planter,  who  was 

personally  known  to  Mr. , he,  much  to  my 

gratification,  proposed  a call  upon  his  friend.  Leav- 
ing the  road,  we  entered  at  once  upon  a large  and 
beautiful  park  or  chase.*  It  was  enclosed  by  a 
common  worm  fence,  but  afforded  some  charming 
vistas  among  its  noble  clumps  of  trees,  where  a 
large  herd  of  deer  were  browsing  unmolested.  This 
was  the  grazing  portion  of  the  farm,  and  the  hardy 
blue  grass,  even  thus  early,  afforded  a rich  sward 
beneath  the  boughs  that  were  just  putting  forth 
their  young  leaves.  Passing  completely  through 
this  wooded  pasture,  we  entered  a square  enclosure 
of  some  eight  or  ten  acres  of  garden,  lawn,  and  or- 
chard combined,  but  not  doing  much  credit  to  the 
characteristics  of  either,  having  a rectangular  brick 
house  placed  formally  in  the  midst,  with  several 
negro  hovels  about  a stone’s  throw  from  the  door. 
I had  been  so  charmed  with  my  ride  through  the 
cattle-range,  that  my  expectations  were  very  much 


Called  “ a cattle-range,”  if  I mistake  not,  in  Kentucky. 


HOSPITALITY. 


131 


raised,  and  I was  not  a little  disappointed  at  the 
aspect  of  things  here.  I could  not  help,  while  we 
waited  for  the  servants  to  take  our  horses,  indulging 
my  imagination  in  throwing  down  the  nearest 
fences,  and  allowing  the  mansion  to  stand,  as  it 
ought,  on  the  open  verge,  if  not  in  the  bosom  of  the 
park,  from  which  it  was  thus  tastelessly  shut  out. 

In  the  mean  time  half-a-dozen  black  people, 
young  and  old,  made  their  appearance ; our  horses 
were  disposed  of,  and  two  tall  and  well-made  Ken- 
tuckians, either  of  whom  had  counted,  perhaps,  five 
or  six- and- twenty  summers,  saluted  us  at  the  door. 
My  companion  was  received  with  a great  deal  of 
cordiality  ; and  I was  made  at  once  at  home.  We 
dined  with  the  young  gentlemen,  who,  in  the  ab- 
sence of  the  older  members  of  the  family,  were 
keeping  bachelors’  hall  together  ; and  half-a-dozen 
plans  were  at  once  projected  by  them  for  making 
my  time  pass  agreeably  for  a month  to  come.  Nor 
would  they  hearken  to  the  idea  of  my  proceeding 

on  with  Mr. immediately  after  dinner.  Most 

unwillingly,  however,  I was  obliged  to  insist  upon 
going.  Our  horses  were  saddled,  while  theirs,  too, 
were  brought  to  the  door ; and  descending,  under  the 
escort  of  our  entertainers,  a slight  knoll,  back  of  the 
house,  where  a lively  brook  came  singing  from  a 
rocky  cave  within  a few  yards  of  the  door,  we  en- 
tered a wooded  enclosure  of  about  a hundred  acres, 
separated  by  a fence  from  the  woodland  pasture 
around.  Here  a herd  of  elk,  startled  by  the  sound 
of  our  horses’  feet,  reared  their  tall  figures  from  the 
patches  of  underwood,  and  banding  together  in  a 


132  HERD  OF  ELK. 

moment,  scampered  after  their  antlered  leader.  The 
enclosure  was  so  limited  that  it  was  easy  to  keep 
them  in  sight ; and  I tried  the  powers  of  my  horse 
by  once  or  twice  putting  him  to  the  top  of  his  speed 
after  these  long-legged  gentry. 

My  hospitable  entertainers  took  the  opportunity 
to  press  me  again  to  remain  at  least  a few  days 
with  them,  adding  the  strong  temptation  of  an  elk- 
hunt  on  horseback,  as  one  of  these  fellows  when 
turned  out  in  the  range  would  afford  superb  sport : 
but  I had  already,  before  leaving  Lexington,  en- 
tered into  engagements  which  compelled  me  to 
forego  the  pleasure.  The  attentive  young  Kentuc- 
kians accompanied  us  through  the  plantation  until 
we  came  out  on  the  highway ; and  finally,  with  one 
more  attempt  to  detain  us,  we  were  dismissed  upon 
our  journey,  after  a promise  was  exacted  from  me 
that  I would  not  return  that  way  without  at  least 
passing  a night  with  them. 

The  elk  that  I had  seen  here,  which  apparently 
bore  about  the  same  proportion  in  size  to  some  deer 
that  were  feeding  near  them,  that  one  of  the  latter 
would  to  a fox— I might  almost  say  a hare — were 
prized  by  their  owner  as  a remnant  of  the  race 
once  so  numerous  in  Kentucky,  and  now  only  found 
in  its  wild  state  in  the  north-west  territory,  or  far 
over  the  Mississippi.  Like  the  moose — to  which 
they  are  so  nearly  allied  in  size  and  appearance, 
the  palmated  horns  of  the  latter  being,  I believe, 
the  most  distinguishing  mark  between  them — the 
elk  has  rapidly  retired  before  the  advances  of  civili- 
zation. The  moose,  indeed,  may  still  be  found  oc- 


THE  ELK  AND  BUFFALO. 


133 


casionally  among  the  wild  hills  about  the  sources 
of  the  Hudson,  in  the  State  of  New-York  : but  the 
elk  seems  to  have  gone  westward  with  the  buffalo ; 
nor  do  I ever  remember  to  have  heard  of  any  being 
taken  on  our  eastern  waters.  A score  of  these 
majestic-looking  fellows  would  form  a noble  appen- 
dage to  the  ornamental  grounds  of  some  of  the  old 
seats  on  the  Hudson.  I think  them  more  interest- 
ing in  appearance  than  the  buffalo ; half-a-dozen  of 
which  I have  seen  grazing  together  on  the  estate  of 
the  gentleman  with  whom  1 was  now  travelling. 
He  was  at  considerable  pains  to  procure  a pair  from 
the  far  west  for  the  sake  of  experimenting  on  a 
cross  with  the  domestic  cattle,  which,  contrary  to 
the  theoretical  surmises  of  some  of  the  greatest  na- 
turalists, has  fully  succeeded;  and  Mr.  W.  can  now 
show  half-blooded  cows  in  his  pastures  of  the  third 
generation.  They  are  the  most  uncouth-looking 
objects  you  can  conceive  of. 

The  experiment,  which  is  a very  interesting  one, 
must  have  been  attended  with  a great  deal  of  ex- 
pense in  procuring  the  wild  buffalo  from  so  great  a 
distance  : but  no  attention  paid  in  Kentucky  to  the 
rearing  of  stock  is  thrown  away ; and  you  may  here 
see  some  of  the  finest  cattle  and  the  most  beautiful 
pastures  in  the  world.  This  placing  their  chief  de- 
pendence upon  flocks  and  herds  gives  something 
patriarchal  to  some  districts  of  Kentucky;  and  the 
existence  of  slavery  within  her  borders,  though  gene- 
rally allowed  by  the  intelligent  to  be  an  evil,  and  one 
of  which  they  are  really  desirous  to  rid  themselves, 
does  not  detract  from  that  character  in  th6  rural  popu- 

m 2 


134 


CAPITAL  OF  KENTUCKY* 


lation.  The  condition  of  the  negroes  in  servitude  is 
so  easy,  that  to  call  one  a “ free  nigger ” is  the 
highest  term  of  reproach  among  them.  They  ap- 
pear to  be  very  much  attached  to  their  masters, 

and  a familiarity  exists  between  them  which  would 
•/ 

be  fatal  to  all  discipline  in  the  ordinary  relations  of 
master  and  servant.  The  latter  relation  of  society, 
indeed,  as  compared  with  that  of  owner  and  slave, 
may  be  likened  to  the  different  footing  upon  which 
a subaltern  and  a general  officer  may  place  them- 
selves with  a common  soldier:  he  in  whom  the  su- 
preme command  is  vested  may  safely  imitate  the 
great  Frederick  or  Napoleon,  and  joke  with  his 
troops  as  “Fritz,”  or  the  “little  Corporal;”  while 
the  subaltern  can  never  with  propriety  relax  the 
necessary  etiquette  with  those  who  tread  so  closely 
upon  his  heels. 

It  was  about  dusk  that  we  approached  the  capital 
of  Kentucky,  which  lies  so  deeply  buried  in  a gorge 
of  hills  that  almost  the  first  view  you  have  of  the 
town  is  by  looking  into  its  chimneys.  The  Kentucky 
river,  cutting  its  way  through  precipitous  limestone 
banks,  makes  a bend  here  through  a complete  circus 
of  romantic-looking  knolls  about  three  or  four  hun- 
dred feet  high:  between  the  base  of  these  and  the 
bank  of  the  river  on  either  side  is  a level  amphi- 
theatre, upon  which  the  town  is  built.  The  two  di- 
visions— Frankfort  and  South  Frankfort — contain 
together  about  4000  inhabitants.  The  view  of  the 
place  from  the  bluffs  above — with  its  rectangular 
squares  mapped  out  beneath  you  ; the  marble  state- 
house  raising  its  Ionic  portico,  like  a Grecian  tern- 


FRANKFORT. 


135 


pie,  in  the  midst ; and  the  gray-stone  penitentiary, 
with  its  castellated  walls,  thrown  in  the  deep  sha- 
dow of  the  hill-side— is,  at  early  dawn,  or  beneath 
the  approaching  twilight,  exceedingly  beautiful.  I 
first  viewed  it  at  the  latter  hour,  when  winding  down 
the  steep  declivity  back  of  the  town.  We  entered 
the  place  last  evening;  and  this  morning  I have 
crossed  the  river,  and  rambled  over  the  opposite 
hills  on  horseback,  in  order  to  enjoy  a similar  pros- 
pect. The  town,  from  whatever  point  of  view  you 
observe  it,  preserves  the  same  peculiar  appearance 
as  it  lies  nestled,  as  it  were,  among  its  steep  hills. 

The  situation  of  Frankfort  is,  indeed,  remarkable 
in  the  extreme ; but,  of  late  years,  a new  interest 
for  the  passing  traveller  has  attached  to  the  place, 
from  its  having  been  the  scene  of  one  of  the  deepest 
domestic  .tragedies  of  ancient  or  modern  times. 
The  theme  of  Beauchamp  and  his  wife,  which,  dur- 
ing the  trial  of  the  former,  seven  or  eight  years 
since,  so  filled  the  newspapers,  must  be  familiar  to 
you,  though  you  cannot  perhaps  recall  the  par- 
ticulars of  the  thrilling  tale.  In  the  lighter  tone 
of  society  that  prevails  in  oqr  Atlantic  cities,  inci- 
dents like  these,  as  they  could  never  there  occur, 
seem,  from  the  exaggerated  sentiment  and  romantic 
rashness  of  disposition  they  betray,  as  belonging  to 
a bygone  age,  or  transpiring  in  a different  planet. 
They  are  dwelt  upon  in  a passing  conversation  as 
“ singularly  odd,”  and  “ very  eccentric and  are 
then  superseded  by  inquiries  about  the  stocks,  or  a 
learned  discussion  in  relation  to  the  opera.  They 
may  awaken  a momentary  interest,  but  are  soon 


136 


BEAUCHAMP  AND  HIS  WIFE. 


forgotten  among  the  diversity  of  more  congenial 
subjects  that  force  themselves  upon  the  attention. 
But  among  a people  so  earnest  in  character  as  the 
Kentuckians,  and  in  a community  whose  sympathies 
have  been  outraged  by  such  a mingled  tissue  of 
monstrous  guilt  and  romantic  infatuation,  it  is  far 
otherwise.  The  tragic  fate  of  “ Beauchamp  and  his 
wife”  sinks  more  deeply  into  men’s  bosoms ; and 
the  story  of  their  strange  loves,  of  her  cruel  wrong 
and  his  dark  revenge,  of  the  savage  retribution  they 
exacted  from  the  author  of  their  misery  and  their 
crime,  and  the  touching  heroism  of  the  death  they 
shared  at  last  together — all  combine  to  make  up  a 
drama  of  real  life  which  can  never  be  forgotten 
among  the  scenes  where  it  was  enacted.* 

I shall  return  to  Lexington  this  evening;  and 
when  you  next  hear  from  me,  I shall  be  on  my  way 
to  the  “ Forks  of  the  Kentucky” — one  of  the  wildest 
and  most  romantic  parts  of  that  state.  Professor 
L , of  the  Transylvania  University,!  an  accom- 

plished young  German,  is  to  be  my  companion. 

Mr.  L , who,  to  many  other  acquirements  less 

common  in  Kentucky,  adds  that  of  being  an  excel- 
lent rifle-shot,  is  led  away  by  his  love  of  scenery 
and  of  sporting ; and  I promise  myself  a great  deal 
of  pleasure  from  his  society. 

* See  note  K. 

t The  flourishing  collegiate  institution  of  Lexington  so  called. 


LEAVE  LEXINGTON, 


137 


LETTER  XXXIII. 

Bryant’s  Station — Affair  with  the  Indians — Female  Heroism— 
Lovely  Scenery — Old-fashioned  Building — The  Alleghanies — Mi- 
neral Springs — The  Red  River — Knobs  of  Kentucky — Town  of 
Irvine. 

Forks  of  the  Kentucky,  April  12,  1834. 

After  settling  with  mine  host  on  the  day  that  I 
left  Lexington,  a black  groom  brought  my  horse  to 
the  door,  and  flinging  my  cloak  and  valise  across 
the  saddle,  I rode  over,  about  noon,  to  the  house  of 
a friend  in  another  part  of  the  town,  where  an  early 
dinner  had  been  courteously  provided  solely  for 
myself  and  the  new  travelling  companion  mentioned 
in  my  last ; and  our  time  not  allowing  us  to  pay 
that  devotion  to  the  excellent  Madeira  and  old  sher- 
ry which  their  richness  and  flavour  would  naturally 
claim,  a bottle  of  each  was  quietly  deposited  in  a 
basket  with  some  other  accompaniments,  and  a ser- 
vant despatched  by  our  kind  entertainer  to  guide  us 
on  the  first  stage  of  our  journey. 

Emerging  soon  from  the  beautiful  environs  of 
Lexington,  we  rode  for  an  hour  or  two  through  nar- 
row roads,  where  the  moist  rich  soil  was  fetlock 
deep  for  our  horses.  Rut  the  enclosures,  which 
wrere  generally  shut  in  by  a worm  fence  on  either 
side,  were  exceedingly  beautiful*  and  the  woodland 
and  arable  were  so  intermixed,  that  the  tall  and  ta- 


138 


bryant’s  station. 


per  trees  of  the  former,  now  ranging  in  open  ave- 
nues along  a hill-side,  and  now  disposed  in  clumps 
upon  the  meadows,  as  if  set  there  by  the  eye  of 
taste,  produced  the  impression  of  riding  through  a 
magnificent  park,  whose  verdant  swells  and  embow- 
ered glades  had  been  only  here  and  there  invaded 
and  marred  by  the  formal  fences  drawn  through 
them. 

Sunset  found  us  upon  the  banks  of  the  Elkhorn, 
and  we  crossed  the  stream  near  “ Bryant’s  Station,” 
one  of  the  most  celebrated  spots  in  the  annals  of 
“ The  Dark  and  Bloody  Ground.”*  The  stockade 
fort  that  once  stood  here  was  frequently  a refuge 
from  the  savages  in  the  early  settlement  of  the  ad- 
jacent country ; and  its  gallant  defence  by  a hand- 
ful of  pioneers  against  the  allied  Indians  of  Ohio, 
led  on  by  the  white  renegadoes  Girty  and  JVTKee, 
was  one  of  the  most  desperate  affairs  in  the  Indian 
wars  of  the  west.  The  enemy  banded  together  at 
the  forks  of  the  Scioto,  and  planned  their  attack  in 
the  deep  forests,  a hundred  miles  away  from  the 
scene  where  it  was  made.  The  pioneers  had  not 
the  slightest  idea  of  their  approach,  when,  sudden 
as  the  grove  of  spears  that  sprung  from  the  dragon’s 
teeth  in  classic  land,  a thousand  rifles  gleamed  in 
the  corn-fields  one  summer’s  night.  That  very 

* The  fair  portion  of  Kentucky  known  by  this  significant  title  is 
said  to  have  been  distinguished  by  a similar  term  even  before  the 
appearance  of  the  whites.  It  was  the  favourite  hunting-ground  of 
the  Virginia  and  Ohio  Indians,  and  the  scene  of  continual  strife 
between  the  warlike  bands  that  wandered  thither  to  arouse  the  buf- 
falo from  the  cane-brake^,  or  chase  the  elk  over  the  extensive  “ bar- 
rens’’ of  Kentucky. 


AFFAIR  WITH  THE  INDIANS. 


139 


evening  the  garrison  had  chanced  to  gather  under 
arms  to  march  to  the  relief  of  another  “ station”  that 
was  similarly  invested.  It  was  a fearful  moment : 
an  hour  earlier,  and  the  pioneers  would  have  been 
cut  off, — an  hour  later,  and  their  defenceless  wives 
and  daughters  must  have  been  butchered  or  carried 
into  captivity,  while  their  natural  protectors  were 
hurrying  to  the  rescue  of  others.  The  Indians  saw 
at  a glance  that  the  moment  was  not  propitious  to 
them ; and  having  failed  in  surprising  the  Kentuc- 
kians, they  attempted  to  decoy  them  from  their  fast- 
ness by  presenting  themselves  in  small  parties  be- 
fore it.  The  whites  were  too  wise  to  risk  a battle, 
but  they  knew  not  how  to  stand  a siege.  The 
“ fort,”  which  was  merely  a collection  of  log-cabins 
arranged  in  a hollow  square,  was  unhappily  not  sup- 
plied with  water.  They  were  aware  that  the  attack- 
ing party  knew  this  ; they  were  aware  too  that  their 
real  force  lay  in  ambush  near  a neighbouring  spring, 
with  the  hope  of  cutting  off  those  who  should  come 
to  remedy  the  deficiency. 

But  the  sagacity  of  a backwoodsman  is  some- 
times more  than  a match  for  the  cunning  of  an  In- 
dian, and  the  heroism  of  a woman  may  baffle  the 
address  of  a warrior.  The  females  of  the  station 
determined  to  supply  it  with  water  from  this  very 
spring  ! But  how  ? Woman’s  wit  never  devised  a 
bolder  expedient, — woman’s  fortitude  never  carried 
one  more  hazardous  into  successful  execution. 
They  reasoned  thus:  The  water  must  be  had.  The 
women  are  in  the  habit  of  going  for  it  every  morn- 
ing If  armed  men  now  take  that  duty  upon  them, 


140 


FEMALE  HEROISM. 


the  Indians  will  think  that  their  ambuscade  is  dis- 
covered, and  instantly  commence  their  assault.  If 
the  women  draw  the  water  as  usual,  the  Indians 
will  not  unmask  their  concealed  force,  but  still  per- 
severe in  attempting  to  decoy  the  defenders  of  the 
station  without  its  pickets.  The  feint  succeeded ; 
the  random-shots  of  the  decoy  party  were  returned 
with  a quick  fire  from  one  side  of  the  fort,  while 
the  women  issued  from  the  other,  as  if  they  appre- 
hended no  enemy  in  that  quarter.  Could  aught  be 
more  appalling  than  the  task  before  them  ? But 
they  shrink  not  from  it ; they  move  carelessly  from 
the  gate, — they  advance  with  composure  in  a body 
to  the  spring, — they  are  within  point-blank  shot  of 
five  hundred  warriors.  The  slightest  trepidation 
will  betray  them- — the  least  apparent  consciousness 
of  their  thrilling  situation,  and  their  doom  is  inevi- 
table. But  their  nerves  do  not  shrink;  they  wait 
calmly  for  each  other  until  each  fills  her  bucket  in 
succession.  The  Indians  are  completely  deceived, 
and  not  a shot  is  fired.  The  band  of  heroines  re- 
trace their  steps  with  steady  feet, — their  movement 
soon  becomes  more  agitated, — it  is  at  last  precipi- 
tate. But  tradition  says  that  the  only  water  spilt 
was  as  their  buckets  crowded  together  in  passing 
the  gate.  A sheet  of  living  fire  from  the  garrison, 
and  the  screams  of  the  wounded  Indians  around  the 
spring,  told  that  they  were  safe,  and  spoke  the  tri- 
umph of  their  friends.  Insane  with  wrath  to  be 
thus  outwitted,  the  foe  rushed  from  his  covert,  and 
advanced  with  desperation  upon  the  rifles  of  the  pio- 
neers. But  who  could  conquer  the  fathers  and  bro- 


LOVELY  SCENERY. 


141 


thers  of  such  women  ? The  Indians  were  foiled  ; 
they  withdrew  their  forces ; but  on  counting  the 
number  of  their  slain,  they  burned  with  vengeance 
and  rallied  once  more  to  the  fight.  They  were 
again  and  again  repulsed.  Succour  at  last  came  to 
the  pioneers,  and  the  savages  were  compelled  to 
retreat  to  their  wild-wood  haunts  once  more.* 

The  peaceful  aspect  of  this  spot,  as  twilight  now 
settled  over  the  landscape,  afforded  a strong  con- 
trast to  the  wild  encounters  of  which  it  had  been 
the  scene.  We  were  in  a celebrated  grazing  dis- 
trict, and  entering  the  gate  of  a plantation  at  even- 
ing, this  park-like  scenery  continued  to  grow  upon 
us.  There  were  neither  roads  nor  lanes  through 
the  plantations ; but  the  respective  owners  having 
merely  an  open  right  of  way  through  each  other’s 
^grounds,  nothing  could  be  more  devious  than  our 
route  from  gate  to  gate.  It  lay  chiefly  through  the 
wooded  pastures  for  which  Kentucky  is  so  celebra- 
ted, and  the  fresh  young  grass  was  at  this  early  season 
like  an  elastic  carpet  beneath  our  horses’  feet.  The 
new  foliage  of  the  spring  was  still  too  tender  to  rus- 
tle in  the  evening  breeze ; and  the  moonbeams, 
which  silvered  the  sweeping  cones  of  the  maple- 
trees,  and  played  through  the  acacia’s  slender  skreen, 
fell  soft  as  sleep  upon  the  greensward.  Sometimes 
the  frequent  clumps  would  thicken  into  groves, 
whose  depths  it  was  idle  to  attempt  to  pierce ; and 
then  again,  where  a rich  fringe  of  underwood  indi- 
cated the  bank  of  a rivulet,  enormous  vines,  pendent 

* See  M'Clung’s  “ Sketches  of  Western  Adventure,”  for  a mi- 
nute account  of  this  affair. 

VOL.  II. — N 


142 


OLD-FASHIONED  BUILDINGS. 


from  some  ancient  walnut,  would  fling  their  verdu- 
rous canopy  over  its  fountain-head. 

After  fording  a number  of  fine  brooks,  whose  full 
currents  more  than  once  washed  our  saddle-girths, 
we  came  at  last  to  our  destination  for  the  night. 
It  stood  upon  an  eminence ; a spacious  old-fash- 
ioned building,  erected  during  the  early  settlement 
of  Kentucky,  and  now  in  a state  of  considerable 
dilapidation.  Our  black  guide,  who  was  an  old 
family  servant,  well  known  to  the  proprietor,  was 
our  only  letter  of  introduction ; and  the  hospitable 
manner  in  which  we  were  received  and  made  at 
once  at  home  showed  that  we  needed  no  more. 
The  young  planter,  our  host,  was  of  an  old  Virginia 
family,  and  the  room  in  which  I slept  was  decorated 
with  several  family  pictures  in  the  costume  of 
Charles  the  Second’s  time,  whose  faded  colours* 
and  tarnished  frames  were  in  better  keeping  with 
the  ancient  exterior  of  the  dwelling  than  the  neat 
apartment  wherein  I passed  the  night. 

After  an  early  breakfast,  our  horses  were  led  to 
the  door  by  three  slaves ; our  entertainer’s,  a fine 
blooded  gelding,  having  his  saddle  covered  by  a 
bear-skin,  of  which  his  master’s  rifle  had  robbed  the 
original  owner.  All  being  ready  for  mounting,  it 
was  not  yet  without  considerable  difficulty  that  we 
got  permission  to  start- — our  friendly  host,  who  the 
night  before  would  scarcely  hear  of  our  leaving  him 
in  the  morning,  still  insisting  upon  our  “ giving  him 
at  least  a few  days.” 

An  hour  after  found  us  riding  through  a country 
of  the  same  character  as  that  already  described,  but 


THE  ALLEGHANIES. 


143 


the  land  beyond  it  seemed  to  lie  in  ridges  against 
the  sky ; and  ascending  one  of  these,  we  saw  for 
the  first  time  a blue  line  of  mountains  darkening  the 
horizon.  It  was  so  long  since  I had  seen  anything 
of  the  kind,  that  I confess  the  effect  upon  me  wras 
almost  thrilling.  The  sweeping  prairies,  the  broad 
rivers,  and  magnificent  vegetation  of  the  west  were 
at  once  forgotten ; I thought  only  of  the  pine-co- 
vered mountains  of  my  native  state,  the  rocky  banks 
of  its  gushing  streams,  and  the  lonely  lakes  from 
which  they  take  their  rise ; and  X felt  the  while  an 
indescribable  longing  to  be  “ over  the  hills  and  far 
away.”  Those  blue  summits  before  me  were  the 
spurs  of  the  Alleghanies  ; and  though  the  main 
chain  was  yet  hundreds  of  miles  in  advance,  with  a 
dozen  intervening  ridges  of  as  many  different  names 
between,  it  was  something,  at  least,  I thought,  to  be 
once  within  their  cool  defiles.  I now  write  to  you 
from  one  of  their  inmost  glens,  and  the  feeling  has 
hardly  abated.  To  realize  the  delight  I take  in 
their  rough  embraces,  you  must,  whatever  may  be 
your  love  of  mountain  scenery,  have  passed  months 
upon  the  smooth  prairies,  or  floated  for  weeks  along 
the  alluvial-banked  rivers  of  the  west. 

From  this  point  we  rode  for  a short  distance  over 
a very  indifferent  soil,  through  a wood  of  oaks,  in 
the  centre  of  which  we  came  to  a spot  that  will, 
probably,  at  no  very  distant  day,  be  celebrated  as  a 
place  of  public  resort.  On  the  banks  of  a clear 
brook  that  winds  through  the  forest  there  are  no 
less  than  four  or  five  mineral  springs  within  as 
many  rods  of  each  other,  and  each  of  a different 


144 


THE  RED  RIVER. 


quality.  The  two  which  have  attracted  most  at- 
tention are  a sulphur  and  an  oil  spring ; the  last  of 
which,  fror^|  the  quantity  of  oleaginous  matter 
always  floating  upon  its  surface,  is  quite  a natural 
curiosity.  The  proprietor,  who  contemplates  crea- 
ting an  establishment  upon  the  spot,  lives  in  a log 
hut  near  the  springs,  and  treated  us  very  hospitably. 
His  little  establishment  was  neatly  ordered  ; and  he 
set  before  us  a most  acceptable  repast  of  fish,  ham, 
eggs,  and  coffee,  for  which  he  would  not  hear  of 
receiving  compensation. 

The  day  by  this  time  was  half  spent ; and  our 
host  of  .the  night  before,  having  out  of  mere  polite- 
ness accompanied  us  thus  far  on  our  way,  was 
compelled  to  return.  He  insisted,  however,  upon 
piloting  us  out  of  the  wood,  and  then  taking  a kind 
farewell,  he  struck  the  rowels  in  his  blooded  horse, 
who,  unembarrassed  by  the  baggage  which  encum- 
bered our  patient  roadsters,  wheeled  with  a snort 
upon  his  hind  legs,  and  was  instantly  lost  in  the 
forest  from  which  we  had  just  emerged. 

The  country  became  now  more  and  more  broken, 
and  less  suited  to  cultivation,  but  watered  by  nu- 
merous rills  from  the  hill-sides ; the  feeders,  pro- 
bably, of  a turbid  torrent  called  the  Red  River,  to 
whose  banks  we  came  just  after  sunset.  The 
ferry-scow  had  been  carried  away  by  a recent 
freshet ; and  urging  our  horses  to  the  rushing  brink, 
we  were  only  prevented  from  trying  to  ford  or  swim 
the  stream  by  a number  of  persons  who  hurried  to 
the  spot  from  a mill  hard  by,  and  begged  us  to 
desist.  Howr  to  get  over  though,  otherwise,  was 


KNOBS  OF  KENTUCKY. 


145 


the  question ; and  it  was  so  rapidly  growing  dark 
that  each  moment  rendered  the  delay  more  disa- 
greeable. But  the  difficulty  -was  soon  solved  by  a 
by-stander ; who,  guiding  us  to  a spot  farther  up  the 
stream,  where  he  kept  a canoe,  it  was  soon  loosed 
from  its  moorings,  and  placing  our  valises  and  horse- 
furniture  on  the  bottom,  we  crossed  one  at  a time, 
swimming  our  horses  over  beside  the  canoe.  They 
both  in  succession  landed  safely,  though  the  office 
of  getting  them  up  the  steep  and  slippery  bank  on 
the  opposite  side  was  somewhat  difficult.  It  was 
quite  dark  before  we  re-saddled  and  started  anew ; 
and  after  dodging  about  for  some  time  in  the  woods 
to  find  our  road,  we  discovered  by  the  moon,  as  she 
got  above  the  tops  of  the  trees,  the  print  of  a wheel 
in  the  bed  of  a brook,  and  followed  this  novel  kind 
of  turnpike  up,  until  we  came  to  the  house  of  a tan- 
ner, where  we  obtained  permission  to  pass  the  night. 
We  were  now  entering  what  is  called  the  knobs  of 
Kentucky ; a part  of  the  state  but  little  settled,  and 
barren  in  comparison  with  the  populous  and  fertile 
districts  I had  hitherto  visited.  Being  off  the  main 
roads,  too,  the  accommodations  are  of  course  very 
different  from  what  may  be  found  upon  more  tra- 
velled routes,  and  my  companion  and  myself  were 
both  compelled  to  take  upon  ourselves  the  duty 
performed  by  slaves  the  night  before,  and  feed  and 
groom  our  own  horses.  L.,  however,  I find,  has 
all  the  adaptability  about  him  required  on  such  a 
tour  ; and  as  for  myself,  you  know,  I have  been 
long  since  broken  in. 

Rising  with  the  sun,  the  next  morning  found  us 

N 2 


146 


TOWN  OF  IRVINE. 


by  breakfast-time  in  a little  village  called  Irvine. 
It  was  small,  and,  to  appearance,  anything  but 
flourishing ; but  its  singular  seclusion  among  these 
lonely  hills,  with  the  bright  green  Kentucky — now 
for  the  first  time  crossing  our  route — flowing  in 
front,  had  a pleasing  effect.  There  was  a new  store 
lately  opened  in  the  place  ; and  stopping  to  purchase 
some  trifles  to  the  amount  of  a few  shillings,  the 
proprietor  was  so  punctilious  as  actually  to  give  a 
bill  of  sale  for  the  amount,  from  which  you  may 
draw  your  own  conclusion  as  to  the  customary 
business  of  the  place.  L.  and  myself  had  both  a 
shrewd  suspicion  that  we  had  added  not  a little  to 
the  capital  of  the  town.  I should  not  like  the  place 
the  less,  though,  for  wanting  the  bustle  of  more  ac- 
tive life ; and  upon  the  whole,  when  I recall  its  ap- 
pearance as  it  broke  upon  me  from  the  top  of  a 
neighbouring  hill,  a day  or  two  since,  with  the  pale 
blue  smoke  curling  up  from  its  scattered  chimneys, 
and  courting  the  kindred  mist  that  hung  upon  the 
wooded  brows  of  the  pyramidal  hills  around,  I don’t 
know  what  more  quiet  disposition  I can  make  than 
to  leave  you  till  my  next  letter  in  the  little  town  of 
Irvine. 


HILL  SCENERY. 


147 


LETTER  XXXIV. 

Hill  Scenery — Rockshoal  Mills — A Hill  Cabin — Night  Adven- 
ture. 

Forks  of  the  Kentucky,  April  13,  1834. 

Our  route  from  Irvine  left  the  Kentucky  River 
on  the  left*  and  we  very  soon  entered  the  “ knobs,” 
or  pyramidal  hills,  I described  in  my  last,  as  loom- 
ing like  mountains  at  a distance.  I had  in  fact 
thought  that  we  were  already  in  their  bosom ; .but 
the  first  steep  ascent  of  some  three  hundred  feet  by 
a bridle-way,  which  some  upstart  mountain  torrent, 
called  into  brief  existence  by  the  spring  rains,  had 
appropriated  just  long  enough  to  gash  into  lean  gul- 
lies filled  with  rascally  cobble  stones,  removed  that 
impression.  Gaining  the  top  with  some  difficulty, 
we  found  ourselves  upon  a narrow  serpentine  ridge 
covered  with  chestnuts  and  stunted  pines ; our  path- 
way affording,  in  its  devious  course,  some  very 
pretty  views  of  patches  of  cleared  and  partially  cul- 
tivated land  below  us,  lying  often  in  small  amphi- 
theatres, formed  by  the  gentle  curve  of  the  main 
ridge  and  the  sudden  intersection  of  others  that  tra- 
verse the  country,  or  heave  up  singly  from  the  plain. 
After  a while  the  road  became  more  rocky,  and 
then  began  to  descend,  until,  almost  unconsciously, 
we  found  ourselves  near  the  bottom  of  a magnifi- 


148 


HILL  SCENERY. 


cent  mountain  glen, — a cavernous  gorge  among  the 
hills,  with  more  than  one  feature  about  it  to  remind 
one  of  the  rock-ribbed  abode  of  the  freebooter  in 
“ The  Heart  of  Mid-Lothian.”  It  was  divided  in 
the  midst  by  a roaring  stream,  which  seemed  to 
gush  from  the  mouth  of  a cave  at  the  upper  end — 
a broad  plateau  of  rock  projecting  from  the  mouth 
of  the  cavern  throwing  the  water  like  a spout  far  in 
advance,  and  sending  it  leaping  like  “ a thing  of  life” 
along  its  rocky  channel.  On  the  left,  the  evergreens 
and  thick  underwood  depended  so  heavily  from  the 
steep  bank  as  almost  to  cover  the  stream,  but  on 
the  right  the  rock  rose  sudden  and  bare.  A broken 
wall  with  detached  crags  projected  continually  in 
advance,  leaving  room,  where  the  fragments  were 
displaced,  for  many  an  aged  chestnut  to  find  nou- 
rishment for  its  roots,  and  fling  wide  its  shadowy 
branches. 

Upon  this  side,  cut  out  of  the  rocky  hill,  and  wind- 
ing among  the  clefts  and  detached  pieces  of  rock, 
lay  the  path  up  which  we  forced  our  horses.  The 
ease  and  spirit  with  which  they  accomplished  their 
task  when  once  fairly  started,  convinced  me  that 
one  may  climb  almost  anywhere  with  a horse,  if 
properly  managed.  L.  preferred  leading  his  nag, 
and  went  ahead  to  explore,  but  my  animated  little 
fellow  could  not  be  restrained  When  he  heard  the 
echoing  shouts  from  above,  and  allowing  him  to 
have  his  own  way  entirely,  he  pressed  forward  and 
carried  me  as  safely  to  the  top  of  the  gorge  as  if 
we  had  been  swung  lip  together.  Once  clear  of  the 
ravine,  the  view  that  awaited  us  above  was  worth 


ROCKSIIOAL  MILLS. 


149 


all  the  toil  of  struggling  through  it,  if  that  had  not 
already  been  repaid  by  its  own  scenic  charms.  Our 
road  lay  immediately  on  the  edge  of  a precipitous 
wall ; and  four  hundred  feet  below,  the  Kentucky, 
here  broad,  clear,  and  placid,  kept  its  way  through  a 
rich  alluvial  bottom.  It  was  nearly  dark  when  we 
effected  our  descent  from  the  rocky  bluffs  to  the 
arable  flats  below,  at  a place  called  “ Rockshoal 
Mills,”  where  we  expected  a cottager  of  the  name 
of  Lutzow  to  entertain  us  for  the  night.  Stopping 
at  a rude  enclosure  which  surrounded  the  first  log 
dwelling  we  came  to,  our  hallooing  for  some  time 
only  brought  a posse  of  angry  dogs  about  us,  and 
then  ouf  came  the  owner  of  the  mansion,  hardly 
more  hospitable.  It  was  too  dark  to  see  his  face, 
but  our  parley  with  him  was  to  this  effect : — “ Good 
evening,  sir;  can  you  keep  us  here  for  the  night?” 
“Why,  I reckon  not,  stranger;  my  house  is 
small, *you  see,  and  it ’s  full  already.” 

“We  care  not  for  anything  but  shelter  and  food 
for  our  horses,  which  are  nearly  knocked  up.” 

“ Well,  now  I allow  you’ll  be  much  better  accom- 
modated about  a mile  ahead,  just  over  the  hill  there; 
you  could  see  the  place  if  you  were  on  the  top, — 
that  is,  if  it  was  not  so  dark.” 

This  hint  was  not  to  be  mistaken ; and  turning 
the  heads  of  our  unwilling  horses,  we  descended 
into  the  bed  of  a deep  and  rapid  brook ; and  climb- 
ing a precipitous  bank,  after  proceeding  about  a 
hundred  yards,  a rugged  path,  through  a thick  wood 
of  stunted  growth,  brought  us,  after  dodging  about 
half  an  hour  in  its  defiles,  to  a cabin  on  the  brow  of 


.« 


150 


HILL  CABIN. 


the  hill,  along  whose  rough  sides  we  had  been  for 
some  time  riding.  A lad  of  sixteen,  lightly  dressed 
in  loose  drawers  and  a hunting-shirt,  came  to  the 
door  with  evident  unwillingness,  after  we  had  exer- 
cised our  lungs  for  some  time  in  stirring  up  the 
establishment.  He  stood  in  the  entrance  with  one 
hand  upon  the  half-open  door,  while  the  other  seem- 
ed to  be  employed  in  keeping  back  a very  pretty 
girl  about  his  own  age,  who  stood  peering  curiously 
over  his  shoulder,  while  she  shielded  with  an  old 
bonnet  the  flaring  tallow  candle  that  “shed  its  light” 
with  anything  but  “ hospitable  ray”  across  the  hum- 
ble threshold.  All  our  suing  for  admission  wTas 
vain ; the  lad’s  father  and  mother  were  absent,  and 
had  told  him  to  admit  no  strangers  to  sleep  in  the 
house.  We  offered  him  money  most  liberally,  and 
urged  that  the  night  was  such  as  it  would  be  cruel 
to  turn  a dog  from  the  door,  but  it  produced  not  the 
least  effect  ; he  only  told  us  that  the  house  we  had 
passed  was  better  able  to  take  us  than  his  father’s ; 
and  that  there  was  still  one  about  a mile  ahead, 
where  we  might  get  in;  winding  up  every  time  with, 
“ It  don’t  signify,  strangers,  anyhow ; if  this  Avas 
my  house,  I’d  try  and  accommodate  you,  and  so 
would  father ; but  father  is  not  here,  and  you  can’t 
come  in.” 

I admired  the  boy’s  firmness,  even  while  cursing 
the  occasion  of  his  constancy  : but  there  was  no 
help  for  us,  unless  we  took  the  house  by  storm ; 
and  with  some  difficulty  urging  our  horses  from  the 
door,  we  descended  a steep  bank,  as  the  lad  had 
directed  us,  and  found  ourselves  in  a few  moments 


NIGHT  ADVENTURE. 


151 


floundering  in  a swamp  at  the  bottom.  The  night 
was  pitchy  dark,  and  the  rain  and  wind  seemed  ut- 
terly to  confuse  our  horses,  to  whose  sagacity  we 
surrendered  ourselves,  in  tracking  out  the  way. 
But  when  the  point  proposed  was  at  last  attained, 
our  condition  was  but  little  bettered ; a noise  that 
would  have  awakened  the  seven  sleepers  failed  to 
arouse  the  worthy  housekeeper  that  we  were  about 
to  honour  as  guests : his  name,  also — like  that  of 
the  hospitable  individual  two  miles  back— chanced 
to  be  Lutzow 9 and  Koerner’s  free  companions  on  a 
charge  could  not  have  cried  it  more  lustily.  The 
woods  rang  with  our  shouts  and  hallooing ; but  the 
echo  of  ' our  own  voices  coming  back  in  the  gusts 
that  swept  the  hill-side  was  the  only  leply  vouch- 
safed to  us.  We  determined,  at  last,  to  sleep  in 
the  woods  ; but  having  no  conveniences  for  camping 
out,  thought  it  better,  at  least  for  the  sake  of  our 
horses,  to  try  the  boy  once  more.  I confess,  how- 
ever, that  I was  so  exasperated  at  the  stolid  selfish- 
ness of  the  last  party  whose  hospitality  we  had  so 
vainly  invoked,  that  riding  as  near  as  possible  be- 
neath the  only  window  in  the  house,  I first  raised  a 
clatter  with  the  butt-end  of  my  gun,  that  would 
have  shaken  the  sleeping  eificacy  out  of  a vial  of 
the  strongest  opiate  had  it  stood  near;  and  then, 
when  not  a doubt  remained  that  my  words  would 
not  be  thrown  away,  I thanked  the  inmates  of  the 
house  for  their  politeness,  in  terms  sufficiently  vivid 
to  impress  the  recollection  of  our  nocturnal  visit 
upon  their  minds. 

This  acknowledgment  made,  we  commenced  our 


152 


NIGHT  ADVENTURE. 


retrograde  movement ; but  choosing  the  rocky  hill- 
side in  preference  to  the  tangled  swamp  at  the  bot- 
tom, we  bounced  about  among  broken  cliffs  and 
fallen  trees  with  an  agility  and  success  that  would 
have  made  the  three  Diavolos  eat  themselves  with 
vexation  and  envy,  could  this  celebrated  house  of 
leapers  have  witnessed  the  various  feats  that  we 
lavished  upon  the  darkness.  Among  the  rest,  I 
was  not  a little  amused  when  L.,  more  keen- 
sighted  than  myself,  insisting  upon  choosing  the 
path  which  I left  wholly  to  my  horse  to  find,  mis- 
took the  phosphorescent  trunk  of  a decayed  tree 
for  the  gleam  of  a slimy  and  level  path,  and  im- 
pelling his  horse  upon  the  narrow  causeway,  as  it 
shot  out  from  the  hill-side  on  which  it  had  fallen, 
proceeded  to  dance  a pas  seul  on  the  slippery  tim- 
ber. A few  steps,  a mere  flourish  on  the  deceitful 
path,  carried  horse  and  man  head  over  heels  several 
yards  down  the  hill  in  a moment;  and,  as  you  may 
well  imagine,  it  was  a moment  of  intense  anxiety  to 
me,  when  I heard  the  branches  crashing  and  the 
stones  rolling  beneath  the  hoofs  of  my  friend’s  un- 
fortunate courser,  as  he  struck  out  ou  every  side  to 
arrest  his  downward  progress.  The  activity  of  L., 
however,  embarrassed  • as  he  was  with  his  long 
heavy  rifle  and  various  accoutrements,  soon  brought 
him  to  his  feet ; he  shouted  cheerily  from  below, 
and  passing  his  hand  over  his  horse’s  limbs  to  as- 
sure himself  that  none  were  broken,  mounted  again, 
and  we  pursued  our  way  in  parallel  lines  at  some 
distance  from  each  other.  Endeavouring  to  unite 
again,  we  became  inextricably  confused  among  a 


NIGHT  ADVENTURE. 


153 


mass  of  trees  lately  felled.  “ Lutzow’s  wild  chase” 
(the  great  partisan  major  never  took  a wilder  one) 
was  at  last  up — wre  could  no  more ; but  seeing  a 
faint  light  gleaming  through  the  trees  on  a high 
bank  above  us,  we  shouted  lustily  for  a light.  We 
were  answered  by  the  lad  who  an  hour  before  had 
denied  us  admission  to  his  house,  and  in  a few 
minutes  a dozen  pine  torches,  in  the  hands  of  as 
many  half-naked  children,  showered  their  red  light 
from  the  steep  bank,  and  flashed  upon  a broad  rivu- 
let that  crept  through  the  heavy  underwood  be- 
neath it. 

“ Stranger,”  shouted  the  noble  boy,  “ hold  on  till 
I come  below.  I have  not  been  able  to  sleep  since 
I turned  you  from  the  door ; and,  come  what  may, 
you  shall  share  wrhat  we’ve  got  to-night.” 

A single  toss  of  his  torch  threw  the  light,  as  he 
finished  speaking,  upon  a bold  rock  belowr  him,  and 
leaping  upon  the  narrow  but  firm  foothold,  he  let 
himself  down  into  the  copse  below,  bounded  over 
the  brook,  and  was  by  our  side  in  a moment.  The 
other  children,  approaching  the  edge  of  the  bank, 
threw  the  glare  of  their  blazing  pine-knots  over  a 
narrow  and  more  circuitous  pathway ; while,  mar- 
shalled by  their  elder  brother,  we  scrambled  up  the 
ascent,  and  soon  gained  the  house.  A few  mo- 
ments sufficed  to  secure  our  horses  in  the  miserable 
collection  of  logs  that  served  for  a stable.  There 
was  nothing  but  a bundle  or  t^wo  of  dried  fodder  for 
them  to  eat,  but  we  endeavoured  to  make  up  for  the 
want  of  more  substantial  refreshment  bv  rubbing 
them  well  with  corn-cobs,  which,  you  must  know, 

VOL.  ii. — o 


154 


MISERABLE  SHANTEE. 


are  a tolerable  substitute  for  both  wisp -and  brush 
in  grooming.  But  the  warmth  created  by  the  exer- 
cise did  not  make  a share  of  the  children’s  beds  less 
acceptable,  when,  stripping  off  our  wet  clothing,  we 
bestowed  ourselves  supperless  beneath  the  covering. 


LETTER  XXXV. 

Miserable  Shantee — A Dead  Settlement — Lonely  Mansion— A 

Young  Mountaineer — Mountain  Dwelling — Primitive  Family. 

> 

Clay  County,  Kentucky,  April  13,  1834. 

The  lad  to  whom  we  had  been  indebted  for  a 
night’s  shelter  made  every  possible  apology,  the 
next  morning,  for  our  meagre  entertainment,  by 
pleading  extreme  poverty ; notwithstanding  which, 
we  found  it  very  difficult  to  force  any  remuneration 
upon  him.  The  day  was  unfavourable  for  travel- 
ling, but,  though  not  in  any  way  pressed  for  time, 
we  were  compelled  by  the  want  of  forage  to  change 
our  quarters.  A romantic  ride  along  the  cliffs  of 
the  Kentucky  brought  us  at  seven  or  eight  o’clock 
to  a miserable  shantee,  adjacent  to  a coal  mine  at  the 
forks  of  the  river,  whence  the  coal  is  floated  down 
in  flat  boats  to  Frankfort.  The  shantee  appeared 
to  be  tenanted  solely  by  three  or  four  negroes  ; but 
upon  approaching  the  door,  a respectable-looking 
man  came  to  the  threshold,  and  invited  us  in  out  of 
the  rain.  It  proved  to  be  one  of  the  proprietors  of 


WRETOHED  MEAL. 


155 


the  mines,  who  represented  himself  as  having  been 
a British  soldier  taken  prisoner  in  the  last  war ; but 
his  language  and  address  were  altogether  that  of  a 
western  American.  By  the  kind  offices  of  this  per- 
son, we  were  provided  with  a breakfast  of  coarse 
pork  and  bread  made  of  Indian  corn,  pounded  be- 
tween two  stones  by  the  fireside — a meal-making 
operation  that  consumed  some  time.  I confess  that 
in  all  the  various  tables  I have  sat  down  to,  none 
required  more  of  the  Spartan’s  seasoning  than  this. 
I was  really  glad  to  wash  down  the  coarse  and 
greasy  mixture  with  a bowl  of  sour  milk,  and  be- 
take myself  once  more  to  the  saddle. 

We  returned  now  a mile  or  two  nearly  on  our 
tracks,  except  that  our  path,  instead  of  leading  along 
the  summit  of  the  rocky  and  pine-covered  bluff  of 
the  river,  conducted  us  through  a narrow  but  rich 
alluvial  bottom  at  the  base  of  the  precipice,  where 
the  weeping  branches  of  the  wych-elms  drooped 
far  over  the  smooth  deep  tide,  while  a profusion  of 
vines  of  every  description  hung  in  festoons  along  its 
margin.  It  was  here  that,  while  ferrying  over  the 
Kentucky,  I could  not  help  observing  the  happy 
effect  produced  by  the  full  deep  river,  flowing  so 
calmly  between  banks  that  seemed  to  have  been 
torn  asunder  to  afford  it  a passage.  Each  moun- 
tain torrent  from  the  cliffs  around  clamoured  like  a 
noisy  demagogue  as  it  rushed  from  the  woods  into 
the  sunlight ; but  the  proud  stream  only  absorbed 
its  boisterous  current  in  silence,  and  then,  like  a 
lofty  mind  in  a public  station,  reposing  on  its  own 
truth, — alike  beneath  the  shadow  of  impending  cliffs 


156 


A DEAD  SETTLEMENT. 


or  over  the  bed  of  treacherous  quicksands, — swept 
upon  its  noiseless  but  resistless  way. 

After  gaining  the  right  bank  of  the  river,  our  path 
was  only  the  bed  of  a rushing  brook  that  cut  its 
■way  through  a defile  in  the  hills,  and  we  soon,  from 
diverging  into  its  tributary  rills,  became  totally  lost. 
The  rain  came  down  in  torrents,  and  we  were  glad 
to  reach,  about  mid-day,  what  in  the  language  of 
the  country  is  called  “ a dead  settlement.”  It  was 
a cleared  spot  of  about  fifty  acres,  upon  a piece  of 
alluvial  land,  scooped  out  of  the  hill-side,  and  having 
a ruinous  log  hut  within  a few  yards  of  a brook 
which  formed  one  of  the  boundaries  of  the  deserted 
farm.  Relieving  our  horses  as  quickly  as  possible 
of  their  furniture,  one  of  us  drove  a couple  of  stakes 
in  the  ground,  and  tethered  them  among  the  long- 
neglected  grass;  while  the  other  proceeded  to  strike 
a fire  and  make  things  comfortable  within  doors. 

The  house,  which  consisted  of  but  one  room,  had, 
from  appearances,  already  served  others,  as  we 
were  now  using  it,  for  a temporary  refuge,  as  about 
half  the  floor  seemed  to  have  been  consumed  for 
firewood.  After  stretching  our  clothes  to  dry  on 
the  cross-beams,  however,  we  succeeded  in  regu- 
lating the  establishment  with  comparative  neatness ; 
so  much  so,  indeed,  that  we  determined,  if  game 
abounded  in  the  neighbourhood,  to  stay  here  two 
or  three  days.  Accordingly,  when  the  sky  cleared 
for  a few  minutes,  we  proceeded  to  mend  the  worm 
fence,  and  in  a short  time  completed  a very  tolera- 
ble enclosure  for  our  horses.  L.  then  took  his  rifle 
and  went  over  the  hill  after  a deer,  while  I,  prac- 


LONELY  MANSION. 


157 


tising  upon  the  lessons  in  domestic  economy  learned 
at  the  negro’s  hut  in  the  morning,  proceeded  to  pre- 
pare some  corn,  with  which,  for  the  use  of  our 
horses,  we  had  before  filled  our  saddle-bags.  Seve- 
ral hours  elapsed  before  I heard  the  cheering  whoop 
of  my  friend  ringing  through  the  glen ; but  he  came 
empty-handed,  having  seen  game  of  no  description 
during  his  tramp.  The  pressure  of  hunger,  with 
the  prospect  of  such  a slender  larder,  compelled  us 
forthwith  to  break  up  housekeeping.  We  left  our 
lonely  mansion,  however,  with  some  regret,  for  the 
perfect  seclusion  it  afforded  made  it  the  gem  of  coun- 
try houses.  It  lay  there  secreted  in  the  forest  like 
a beaver-trap  in  a cane-brake,  defying  the  wood 
demon  himself  to  find  it,  unless  he  had  set  his 
hoof  in. 

It  was  after  nightfall  that,  by  following  the  water- 
course, w'e  arrived  with  much  .difficulty  at  a number 
of  enclosed  fields,  where  a thriving  orchard,  and  a 
large  herd  of  cattle  gathering  around  the  first  frame 
barn  we  had  encountered  among  these  wild  hills, 
indicated  a degree  of  comfort  to  which  we  had  long 
been  strangers. 

A stripling  of  seventeen  was  engaged  in  letting 
down  the  bars  for  the  cattle  to  pass  as  we  rode  up 
to  the  enclosure.  He  was  a well-made  young 
mountaineer,  with  a fresh  complexion  and  clear  de- 
termined eye ; his  open  hunting-shirt  revealing  a 
chest  of  the  finest  proportions,  while  the  long  yellow 
curls  that  shaded  either  side  of  his  open  counte- 
nance fell  upon  a pair  of  shoulders  whose  square 
breadth  would  have  done  no  discredit  to  the  figure 

o 2 


158 


MOUNTAIN  DWELLING* 


of  the  brawny  Cretan,  when  the  frame  of  that  noted 
render  of  oaks  was  yet  in  the  gristle.  All  these 
observations  I had  leisure  to  make  when  more  at 
home  with  the  primitive  family  to  which  I am 
about  to  introduce  you.  But  the  make  and  mien 
of  this  young  fellow  called  forth  an  exclamation 
from  my  companion  the  moment  we  saw  him. 

“ I reckon  if  we  can’t  accommodate  you,  stranger, 
no  one  else  can  hereabouts,”  replied  the  young  man 
to  our  request  for  shelter  for  the  night ; “ just  hitch 
your  nags  by  the  door,  and  I’ll  tote  your  plunder 
into  the  house  presently.” 

Approaching  the  dwelling,  which  was  a one 
story  building  in  the  shape  of  an  L,  we  saw  a fat 
old  woman  in  cap  and  spectacles  knitting  in  the 
doorway,  while  a tall  gawky-looking  female  of 
above  five-and-twenty  was  engaged  in  spinning  by 
her  side.  The  old  lady  said  that  the  good  man  was 
out,  but  she  supposed  we  might  stay  for  the  night ; 
while  the  daughter  ushered  us  into  a large  wain- 
scoted apartment,  the  beams  of  which  were  almost 
covered  with  bunches  of  yam,  hanks  of  coarse 
thread,  and  other  similar  products  of  domestic  in- 
dustry suspended  from  them ; while  a quantity  of 
bed  and  table  linen,  and  homespun  frocks  and  long 
stockings,  enough  to  have  fitted  out  half-a-dozen 
rustic  wardrobes,  filled  the  shelves  and  hooks  in 
two  recesses  on  one  side  of  the  apartment,  and 
faced  a couple  of  bedsteads  with  neat  dimity  cur- 
tains, which  occupied  the  corresponding  recesses  on 
the  other  side.  Add  an  oaken  table  or  two,  half-a- 
dozen  rush-bottomed  chairs,  and  a couple  of  long 


THE  FAMILY. 


159 


rifles  with  powderhorn  and  bullet-pouch,  suspended 
upon  a buck’s  antlers  over  the  large  fireplace,  and 
I believe  you  have  the  full  physiognomy  of  the 
great  room  of  the  house  : which,  with  the  addition 
of  a few  strings  of  dried  peaches  over  the  mantel- 
piece, a rag  carpet  on  the  floor,  and  the  substitution 
of  a long  ducking  gun,  or  old  tower  musket,  in 
place  of  the  Kentucky  rifle,  would  correspond  in 
every  feature  with  the  sitting-room  of  a substantial 
Long  Island  farmer. 

But  the  owners  of  these  hoards  of  homespun 
wealth  could  never  have  been  mistaken  for  New- 
Yorkers.  The  group  displayed  around  the  fire  after 
the  head  of  the  household  had  made  his  appearance 
was  such  as  the  masters  of  the  Medici’s  time  loved 
to  paint ; nor  would  the  slightest  alteration  of  cos- 
tume be  required  for  them  to  figure  in  the  pictures 
of  Raphael  or  Rembrandt.  The  females  already 
described  were  indeed  decidedly  of  the  Flemish 
school ; but  the  thin  and  sinewy  figure  of  the  bald- 
headed  old  man,  with  his  long  silvery  beard  depend- 
ing from  a countenance  which  L.  admitted  was  of 
as  perfect  a Roman  mould  as  he  had  ever  beheld  in 
his  travels,  and  flowing  almost  down  to  the  girdle 
which  kept  the  faded  hunting-shirt  to  his  person, 
was  such  as  the  pencils  of  Italy  alone  have  pre- 
served upon  the  canvass.  Yet,  remarkable  as  was 
the  aspect  of  this  ancient  as  he  first  presented  him- 
self to  us,  with  half-a-dozen  sons  around  him,  all, 
like  himself,  in  belted  frocks,  and  sandals  of  raw 
bull’s  hide,  it  struck  neither  of  us  as  did  the  ap- 
pearance of  a boy  of  twelve,  the  youngest  of  the 


160 


COMELY  YOUTH. 


group.  He  was  clad  like  the  rest,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  an  old  broad-brimmed  drab  beaver,  turned 
up  on  one  side  and  slouched  over  the  left  eye,  with 
as  jaunty  an  air  as  if  the  knowing  fingers  of  swash- 
ing Wildrake  had  given  it  the  true  cavalier  cut. 
But  the  features  beneath  were  of  another  stamp 
than  those  of  the  Woodstock  gallant,  that  worthy 
ruffler  in  King  Charles’s  cause  ; they  were  perfectly 
regular  and  of  singular  delicacy,  with  a complexion 
more  transparent  than  that  of  any  female  I ever  be- 
held. In  fact,  it  was  impossible  to  conceive,  when 
you  looked  at  his  long  tiesses  of  gold  floating  away 
from  eyes  of  the  softest  hazel,  that  a head  of  such 
amazing  beauty  could  belong  to  other  than  a wo- 
man. The  figure  of  the  boy,  though  delicate,  was, 
from  its  perfect  proportions,  which  his  dress  so  well 
developed,  fully  in  keeping  with  his  face.  The 
little  fellow,  as  he  stood  with  arms  folded  apart 
from  the  rest,  leaning  against  the  chimney,  caught 
the  attention  of  my  companion,  as  an  armful  of  dry 
wood  thrown  upon  the  fire  brought  his  person  into 
a sudden  glare  of  light. 

“ What  a beautiful  boy  !”  exclaimed  L. 

„ “ Why,  yes,  stranger,”  replied  the  old  man,  fob- 

lowing  our  eyes,  while  the  lad  instantly  left  the 
room,  “ I may  say  that  that’s  as  perfect  a piece  of 
man’s  flesh  as  nature  and  God  Almighty  ever  put 
together ; but  I mistrust  whether  Guy  will  ever 
come  to  good.” 

“ Not  unless  there’s  some  way  of  getting  the  devil 
out  of  him,”  added  one  of  the  brothers. 

“ And  we’ll  never  see  that  day,”  pursued  another; 


HOUR  OF  REST. 


161 


“ he’ll  get  shot  before  he’s  eighteen.  He’s  drawed 
his  knife  twice  on  me  already ; and  unless  we  keep 
him  at  home,  young  as  he  is,  a rope  or  a rifle  will 
soon  be  the  finishing  of  him.” 

“ Now  don’t  talk  so  about  Guy,”  cried  the  sister; 
and  just  then  the  subject  of  our  conversation  enter- 
ing, ran  up  and  buried  his  head,  in  her  lap,  while 
the  young  woman,  untying  a snod  of  yellow  silk 
which  confined  the  spoiled  boy’s  curls  behind, 
combed  out  the  long  ringlets,  and  held  them  up  for 
us  to  admire  with  all  a sister’s  fondness. 

The  hour  of  bed-time  soon  arrived,  and  the  old 
man,  kneeling  before  the  Bible  he  was  unable  to 
read,  the  whole  family  united  with  him  in  a prayer, 
which  was  not  the  less  fervid  and  impressive  be- 
cause he  had  been  denied  those  advantages  of  edu- 
cation which  in  the  Northern  States  are  far  more 
generally  diffused  than  here. 

The  unwonted  luxury  of  clean  sheets  and  a sepa- 
rate bed  for  each  kept  L.  and  myself  exchanging 
congratulations  from  opposite  sides  of  our  apart- 
ment long  after  we  had  retired ; while,  weary  as  we 
were,  we  could  not  help  lying  awake  for  some  time, 
comparing  our  observations  upon  the  primitive  cir- 
cle into  which  we  had  fallen.  But  at  last  the  wood- 
en clock,  which  through  Yankee  enterprise  had 
found  its  way  to  this  remote  glen,  struck  the  hour 
of  ten,  and  the  whole  household  being  long  since 
asleep,  we  suppressed  the  murmur  of  our  voices, 
and  were  soon  dreaming  with  the  rest. 


162 


MANCHESTER. 


LETTER  XXXVI. 

Manchester — Rip  Van  Winkle-^Indolence — Conversation — Ne- 
gro Idiot— A Halt — A Storm. 

. 

Goose  Creek  Salt-works,  Kentucky,  April  14,  1834. 

If  you  look  upon  the  pocket-map  yclept  “ The 
Traveller’s  Guide  through  the  United  States,”  you 
will  see  somewhere  about  the  sources  of  the  river 
Kentucky  a place  called  Manchester,  with  a broad 
highway  marked  as  running  through  it ; the  same 
being  the  identical  spot  from  which  I how  write  to 
you,  and  the  route  thither  so  broadly  indicated  upon 
paper,  the  indentical  path  along  the  rocky  channels 
of  brooks,  and  up  and  down  declivities  unconscious 
of  a pickaxe,  which  we  have  lately  been  travelling. 

The  post-town  of  Manchester  (what  a contempt- 
ible poverty  of  invention  is  displayed  everywhere 
throughout  the  Union  in  borrowing  the  names  of 
places  fifty  times  over  !)  consists  of  about  half  a do- 
zen indifferently  built  houses  pitched  here  and  there 
upon  a pretty  knoll,  which  is  washed  on  two  sides 
by  a broad  and  deep  stream  that  winds  through  a 
romantic  valley,  and  is  lost  at  last  among  the  preci- 
pitous hills  by  which  the  village  is  nearly  surround- 
ed. The  place  sprang  suddenly  into  existence  at 
the  first  establishment  of  the  salt-works  in  its  neigh- 
bourhood many  years  since,  and  has  now,  I believe, 


RIP  VAN  WINKLE. 


163 


for  more  than  a generation  remained  in  statu  quo, 
The  paint — if  it  were  ever  there— -has  long  been 
worn  off  the  houses ; and  the  youngest  man  in  the 
town  belongs  as  much  to  a generation  that  has  pass- 
ed as  does  the  gray  and  shattered  dwelling  in  which 
he  first  drew  breath.  The  regular  outlay  of  small 
sums  for  the  little  necessaries  required  by  some 
hundred  labourers  employed  in  the  salt-works  keeps 
life  flickering  in  one  or  two  small  stores ; and  the 
same  quantum  of  capital  is  probably  the  circulating 
medium  of  the  whole  place.  The  dozing  inhabit- 
ants are  certain  of  having  the  use  of  it,  and  pretty 
certain  of  getting  no  more  ; and  having  no  market 
but  that' at  their  doors,  and  that  being  sufficient  to 
keep  starvation  out  of  the  threshold,  their  enclosures 
all  look  like  the  patrimony  of  Rip  Van  Winkle;  and 
young  Rip,  when  his  waking  father  beheld  his 
slouching  figure  leaning  against  the  tree,  was  not 
more  like  old  Rip  than  are  the  Goose  Creekers  like 
both  of  them. 

It  is  now  about  ten  o5clock,  and  looking  out  of 
the  window,  in  front  of  which  I am  writing,  I can 
see  a dozen  of  these  industrious  burghers  dawdling 
about  a bar-room  opposite.  No  sound  of  riot  or 
obstreperous  mirth  comes  thence  ; and  were  it  not 
for  the  guttural  chuckle  that  gurgles  now  and  then 
from  the  burly  person  of  my  landlord,  you  would 
hardly  know  that  they  were  talking.  They  are  just 
now  changing  their  position,  to  study  the  points  of 
that  sorry-looking  nag,  whose  gummy  lips,  green 
with  half-chewed  grass,  seem,  sagging  to  the  sand 
as  his  hollow  neck  droops  to  the  full  length  of  his 


164 


INDOLENCE. 


bridle.  An  hour  hence  the  steed  will  still  stand 
w;here  he  is,  but  the  group  around  him  will  have 
advanced  with  the  shadows  some  five  yards  beyond 
the  eaves : you  may  then  see  them  curiously 
grouped  upon  the  clump  of  logs  which  form  a pri- 
mitive kind  of  stile  to  the  fence  before  the  door,  and 
the  morning  mist,  which  still  hangs  upon  the 'hills 
around,  having  by  that  time  disappeared,  they  will 
be  in  less  doubt  about  the  weather. 

The  appearance  of  two  well-mounted  and  tho- 
roughly equipped  travellers  has  caused  quite  a sen- 
sation in  the  village.  The  idea  of  persons  travel- 
ling from  motives  of  liberal  curiosity  cannot  enter 
into  the  brains  of  the  inhabitants ; they  insist  upon 
setting  down  my  companion  and  myself  as  Yankee 
pedlers ; and  as  the  familiarity  of  the  people  has 
already  afforded  us  a good  deal  of  quiet  diversion, 
we  are  at  no  pains  to  4ispel  the  illusion.  A villager 
asked  me  yesterday,  while  looking  at  my  fowling- 
piece,  if  I had  “ no  more  of  them  left  ?”  while  ano- 
ther inquired  what  price  I “ set  upon  the  remaining 
one?”  the  first  question  implying,  I suppose,  that 
we  had  been  driving  a trade  in  guns  through  the 
country ; and  the  last  presuming,  as  a matter  of 
course,  that  a Yankee  had  no  use  for  fire-arms. 
“ Are  there  any  gentlemen,  sir,  among  the  Yan- 
kees?” asked  quite  a decent-looking  man  of  me 
this  morning.  I looked  at  the  fellow.  “ I hope  no 
offence,  sir,”  he  added ; “ I mean  by  gentlemen, 
planters  and  ^such-like,  that  live  as  gentlemen  do 
here.” — “ If  you  ask  for  information,  my  friend,  I 
have  never  lived  among  the  Yankees  ; but” — “To 


CONVERSATION. 


165 


be  sure  there  are,”  interrupted  an  old  Irishman  sit- 
ting by;  “ and  two  gentlemen  to  one  to  what  there 
is  here.” — “Well,  you  see,  stranger,  I thought  they 
were  all  pedlers : but  how  comes  you  to  deny  your 
country,  if  it  isn’t  after  all  among  the  leavings  of 
nature’s  work?”  I answered  that  I was  from  the 
State  of  New-York.  “ And  what  now  do  you  call 
that  but  a part  of  Yankee-land  ?”  replied  this  intelli- 
gent yeoman.  Just  then  I heard  mine  host,  who 
wants  but  an  inch  or  two  added  to  his  long  jacket 
to  turn  it  into  a doublet,  and  qualify  him  for  the 
immediate  personation  of  Jack  FalstafT,  calling  out 
most  lustily,— 

“Halloo,  horse  !”  said  old  Boniface,  slapping  on 
the  shoulder  a broad-backed  fellow  that  stood  in  the 
doorway,  “ where’s  Yankee  and  Dutchee  ? the  ba- 
con and  greens  are  smoking  on  the  table,  and  I 
must  take  a glass  pf  cool  liquor  with  them  before 
we  sit  down.  Ah  ! there’s  my  stout  rifle-cracker  : 
come  along,  Dutchee,  my  boy,”  added  he,  as  L. 
made  his  appearance  ; — and  then  to  me,  “ Yankee, 
my  tall  fellow,  a glass  of  old  peach  with  us  before 
dinner smack  ! how  it  relishes  ! down  with  it  all ; 
it  won’t  hurt  a hair  of  your  head  ; I’ve  washed  my 
mouth  with  it  these  forty  years.  And  now,  boys, 
in  to  dinner  while  the  bacon’s  hot.” 

Among  the  subjects  for  observation  in  this  se- 
cluded nook  of  the  world  there  is  a negro  idiot,  of 
about  sixteen,  who  exhibits  in  his  person  the  most 
singular  sport  of  nature  that  I ever  beheld.  He  is 
exceedingly  long  armed,  with  broad  flat  palms  and 
lank  fingers,  which  make  his  hands  look  like  the 

VOL.  II.— P 


166 


NEGRO  IDIOT. 


claws  of  some  wild  animal ; while  every  motion  of 
his  limbs  and  body  has  precisely  that  fumbling 
character  which  pertains  to  the  actions  of  a bear. 
There  is  a brook  hard  by  the  house,  to  which  the 
hogs  sometimes  come  out  of  the  woods  to  wallow, 
when  this  strange-looking  creature  sallies  nearly 
naked  from  the  kitchen  door  to  meet  them.  He 
soothes  the  half-wild  swine  with  uncouth  sounds 
nearly  resembling  their  own  ; and  as  they  retire  to 
sun  themselves  beneath  the  rocky  bank  of  the  rivu- 
let, you  may  see  him  creeping  along  its  ledges  on 
all  fours,  pausing  the  whiles  to  swing  his  long  arms 
to  and  fro,  and  then,  finally,  coiling  himself  to  rest 
among  their  miry  bodies.  My  landlord,  to  whom 
this  unfortunate  being  belongs,  tells  a story  of  the 
boy’s  mother  having  been  frightened  by  a pet  bear ; 
to  wThich,  I need  hardly  say,  all  credence  is  given  in 
the  neighbourhood. 

To-morrow,  after  spending  several  days  here,  I 
shall  bid  adieu  to  the  curiosities  of  Goose  Creek, 
and  part  with  the  companion  to  whom  I have  been 
lately  indebted  for  so  many  agreeable  hours.  L., 
I believe,  returns  by  another  route  to  Lexington,  for 
it  is  almost  impossible  to  take  care  of  man  and  horse 
on  the  road  by  which  we  came.  The  people  are 
miserably  poor  among  these  wild  hills,  and  the 
small  snatches  of  soil  which  they  cultivate  on  the 
banks  of  the  streams  are  hardly  large  enough  to 
produce  the  necessaries  of  life.  The  country  is, 
however,  exceedingly  healthful ; and,  having  no 
newspapers  circulating  among  them,  and  but  rarely 
seeing  a traveller,  they  live  on  in  utter  ignorance 


A HALT. 


167 


of  the  world,  and  sing  the  praises  of  “ old  Kaintuck” 
with  as  much  fervour  as  the  yeoman  who  rides  over 
his  thousand  fat  acres  in  the  finest  regions  of  Ken- 
tucky. These  primitive  people  live  altogether  in 
log  huts  ; and  you  may  form  some  idea  of  their  ex- 
treme poverty,  from  our  being  utterly  unable  in  our 
last  day’s  ride  to  procure  grain  of  any  sort  for  our 
horses,  or  even  a mouthful  of  food  for  ourselves. 

We  pressed  forward  over  the  most  rugged  road, 
from  early  in  the  morning  till  long  after  noon,  being 
told  at  every  house  that  we  would  find  refreshment 
in  the  next ; but  at  last,  in  despair,  were  compelled 
to  feed  our  tired  beasts  upon  the  corncakes  with 
which  we  had  filled  our  pockets  in  the  morning  for 
our  own  refreshment.  We  stretched  ourselves  upon 
a mossy  bank,  where  a brook  that  crept  by  made 
an  opening  in  the  deep  forest,  and  admitted  the  sun- 
shine to  the  myriads  of  wild  flowers  that  bent  over 
its  current.  Our  two  faithful  companions,  divested 
of  their  equipments,  were  tethered  near,  and  after 
taking  a bite  of  the  long  grass  which  grew  around 
the  roots  of  the  trees,  would  ever  and  anon  thrust 
their  noses  towards  us,  and  whinny  for  more  of  the 
grateful  food  with  which  we  had  recently  supplied 
them.  Our  hard  riding  had  given  us  full  two  hours 
to  spare,  and  the  disposition  to  enjoy  them  as  the 
spot  suggested ; the  sheltering  foliage  above — the 
murmuring  brook  hard  by — the  grass  softer  than 
sleep* — what  could  be  more  inviting  ? But  sudden- 
ly, the  green  thatch  above  seemed  to  cast  a deeper 
shade,  the  squirrel  ceased  his  pranks  upon  the  fall- 
* “ Herba  mollior  somno.” — Virgil. 


168 


THE  STORM. 


en  beech-tree  near,  the  red-bird  stilled  his  whistle, 
the  woods  were  silent  as  death,  and  the  sickly  odour 
that  stole  from  the  flowers  was  rank  as  if  they 
grew  upon  a sepulchre. 

The  day  had  been  excessively  warm ; but  now, 
without  a breath  of  air  stirring,  the  atmosphere 
seemed  to  have  become  damp  and  clammy  as  the 
air  of  a dungeon.  We  heard  an  ancient  tree  fall : 
they  sometimes  fall,  as  every  woodman  knows, 
when  nature  is  calm  around,  and  their  destruction 
is  no  prognostic  of  a coming  tempest;  but  the  crash 
of  this  one  broke  upon  the  still  scene  like  thunder. 
Its  echoes  seemed  to  rend  the  cloud  above  us ; for 
straightway,  peal  on  peal,  the  bolts  , went  rattling 
by,  as  if  the  whole  of  Heaven’s  artillery  were  in  the 
field.  But  we  were  mounted  and  miles  on  our  way 
before  a drop  of  rain  descended.  It  seemed  as  if 
it  were  held  back  to  let  one  element  do  its  work 
alone,,  for  the  lightning  flashed  with  such  fierce  rapi- 
dity that  the  very  air  seemed  burning  with  it ; I 
could  almost  fancy  that  it  played  around  my  horse’s 
feet,  and  pierced  the  ground  beneath  them.  And 
now  the  rain  began  to  fall  in  torrents,  while  the 
sudden  blast  that  swept  it  in  blinding  sheets  against 
us  came  crashing  through  the  forest  like  a tornado. 
Bending  low  in  the  saddle  to  clear  the  whirring 
branches,  we  levelled  our  guns  lest  they  should  at- 
tract the  lightning,  and  spurring  our  terrified  horses, 
dashed  through  the  woods  at  a rate  which  soon 
carried  us  beyond  the  danger  of  the  driving  boughs; 
and  fording  a rapid  creek,  whose  waters  were  al- 
ready turbid  with  the  growing  freshet,  were  glad  to 


LEAVE  MANCHESTER. 


169 


get  safe  in  our  present  quarters,  just  as  the  night 
closed  in. 

P.  S.  L tells  me,  that  in  hunting  yesterday 

morning  on  a hill-side  along  our  route,  he  counted 
five  places  where  the  lightning  had  struck. 


LETTER  XXXVII. 

Leave  Manchester — Goose  Creek — Carrying  a Mountain — 
Banks  of  the  Cumberland — Forest  Scenery — Farewell  to  Kentucky 
— Mountain  Inn. 

Cumberland  Gap,  April  17,  1834. 

The  morning  mist  was  yet  hanging  over  the  up- 
land, on  the  day  that  I left  Manchester,  as  L.  and  I, 
after  receiving  the  hearty  farewell  of  our  jovial  host 
Uncle  Tommy,  crossed  the  little  brook  that  flowed 
near  our  quarters,  and  proceeded  on  our  separate 
journeys.  Our  roads  parted  at  the  base  of  a steep 
wooded  hill  or  mountain ; and  long  after  our  last 
adieus  were  exchanged,  as  we  wound  around  its 
shaggy  side  in  opposite  directions,  our  horses  mani- 
fested the  strong  mutual  friendship  they  had  con- 
tracted, by  continuing  to  echo  each  other’s  neighs 
till  the  sound  of  their  hoofs  had  died  in  the  distance, 
and  the  interchange  of  regretful  feeling  could  soothe 
their  ears^no  more.  My  sympathy  for  my  bereaved 
Bucephalus  was,  however,  I will  confess,  almost 
swallowed  up  in  concern  for  myself,  as  I felt  how 

* p 2 


170 


GOOSE  CREEK. 


pouch  I should  miss  my  late  accomplished  compa- 
nion among  the  wild  and  grand  scenes  I was  about 
to  visit. 

I. had  then  a most  romantic  ride  of  seventeen 
miles  along  the  most  unromantically  named  “ Goose 
Creek which,  it  must  be  acknowledged,  keeps  its 
way  as  heroically  and  gracefully  among  the  savage 
cliffs  and  soft  meadows  that  by  turns  scowl  upon  or 
dally  with  its  waters,  as  if  it  had  been  happier  in 
its  godfathers : but  you  know,  one  sometimes  finds 
a Snooks  with  the  soul  of  a Marion,  and  sees  the 
ankles  of  a Vestris  supporting  a Higginbottom.  In 
the  course  of  this  ride  I saw  several  establishments 
for  the  manufacture  of  salt,  in  rather  a flourishing 
condition ; but  the  cottagers  along  my  bridle-path, 
for  the  road  was  but  little  more,  seemed  as  poorly 
off  in  this  world’s  goods  as  most  of  those  in  this 
district  whom  I have  had  occasion  to  mention. 

At  last,  coming  out  upon  the  state  road,  a very 
tolerable  inn  greeted  my  eyes  : there  was  a white 
man  reading  a newspaper  in  front  of  the  house,  and 
a negro  groom  at  the  porch  to  take  my  horse ; and 
these  being  the  fir^t  indigenous  reader  and  ostler  I 
had  seen  for  some  time,  I. could  not  but  congratu- 
late myself  upon  the  promising  aspect  of  things. 
My  expectations  were  realized  in  a capital  break- 
fast, which  was  soon  set  before  me  ; during  which, 
while  chatting  with  the  good  woman  of  the  house, 

• as  she  poured  out  my  coffee,  and  pressed  me  now 
to  take  another  egg,  and  now  to  try  a little  more  of 
the  smoked  venison,  I learned  that  the  family  had 
been  driven  from  Lexington  last  summer  by  cho- 


MINIATURE  MOUNTAINS. 


171 


lera,  after  losing  eleven  out  of  their  number.  The 
rest  of  that  day’s  ride,  though  not  a week  has  yet 
intervened,  is  now,  from  the  rapid  succession  of  the 
various  beautiful  scenes  that  opened  upon  me,  too 
confused  in  memory  for  me  to  attempt  particular 
description. 

I have  before  given  you  the  general  features  of 
the  scenery  in  this  region,  and  I must  leave  you  to 
imagine  those  sharp  conical  hills,  or  miniature 
mountains,  I have  so  often  lately  spoken  of,  gra- 
dually swelling  in  magnitude  until  they  insensibly 
deserve  the  name  of  mountains,  and  so  attaching 
themselves  by  degrees  to  the  Cumberland  chain, 
that  they  at  last  become  almost  embodied  with  it, 
and  claim  kindred  with  the  majestic  Alleghanies. 
That  there  is  some  distinction  still  kept  up,  how- 
ever, in  their  ranges,  you  may  gather  from  the  re- 
ply of  a countryman  of  whom  I asked  the  road, 
when  somewhat  puzzled  once  among  the  various 
defiles — “ I reckon  you  don’t  go  this  road  very 
often,  stranger  ? for  it  is  as  plain  as  the  first  sight 
on  a rifle  !*  Well,  now,  you  know  where  Major 
Douglas’s  barn  is  ? That’s  it  across  the  road ; you 
just  take  that  on  your  left  hand,  and  go  ahead  about 
twTo  hundred  rods.  I allow,  then,  you  may  take 
yonder  knob  on  your  right  shoulder,  and  carry  it  till 
it  joins  the  ridge  about  two  miles  from  here ; you 
may  then  keep  the  ridge  in  the  same  place  ( videli- 
cet., on  my  right  shoulder)  till  it  slaps  into  the 
mountain  yonder.”  This  idea  of  carrying  a knob 

i ■ • »' 

* The  long  western  rifle  has  three  sight-pieces  on  the  barrel. 


? 


i 


172 


BANKS  OF  THE  CUMBERLAND. 


or  hill  on  one’s  shoulder  till  it  becomes  a mountain, 
no  doubt  is  borrowed  from  the  worthy  Cretan  who 
carried  a calf  till  it  became  a bull.  Milo’s  task 
was,  however,  mere  boys’  play  to  mine.  You  may 
fancy,  as  it  was  growing  late,  how  I whipped  up 
the  major’s  barn  in  my  left  hand,  and  flirted  it  aside 
like  a feather  after  going  the  two  hundred  rods — 
conceive  me  then  curling  my  fingers  in  the  shaggy 
pines  on  the  top  of  the  hill  designated,  and  wrench- 
ing it  from  its  roots  as  a Lilliputian  would  a peanut ! 
I swung  the  growing  thing  over  my  right  shoulder, 
till  in  a portage  of  two  miles  it  swelled  into  a 
mountainous  ridge,  nor  dropped  my  burthen  till  it 
could  stand  alone  a full-grown  mountain. 

I was  now  riding  along  the  banks  of  the  Cumber- 
land river,  and  the  moonbeams  had  already  begun 
to  silver  the  cliffs  that  bend  over  its  beautiful  wa- 
ters, when  I reached  the  celebrated  ford  whose  ro- 
mantic banks  have  been  so  well  described  in  one  of 
Hall’s  Western  legends.  The  stream  looked  broad 
and  deep  ; and  advancing  into  its  full  current,  where 
the  moon,  touching  a slight  ripple,  indicated,  as  I 
thought,  a zigzag  pathway,  my  saddle  was  thorough- 
ly wetted  before  I heard  a warning  voice  on  the  op- 
posite side,  directing  me  to  head  the  stream,  and 
push  for  another  point  than  that  which  I had  imme- 
diately in  view. 

A glance  at  the  foaming  rifts  over  my  right 
shoulder  gave  me,  I confess,  every  disposition  to 
act  upon  the  advice  with  all  alacrity ; and  soon 
gaining  shoaler  water,  I was  much  provoked  to  learn 
from  my  friendly  cautioner,  as  he  approached  the 


FOREST  SCENERY, 


173 


bank  to  receive  me,  that  I might  have  escaped  a- 
partial  ducking  by  availing  myself  of  a ferry  within 
a mile  of  the  place  where  I had  crossed  the  stream. 
A western  man  never  thinks  of  directing  a mounted 
traveller  to  such  a convenience,  unless  the  stream 
be  otherwise  impassable. 

I passed  the  night  at  a capital  inn  within  a few 
yards  of  the  water’s  edge ; and  the  morrow’s  dawn 
still  carried  my  route  along  the  picturesque  Cum- 
berland. The  advance  of  the  season  had  become 
rapidly  apparent  as  1 proceeded  southwardly.  The 
foliage  was  richer,  and  of  a deeper  dye ; and  as  the 
morning  light  shot  athwart  the  crags  above  me,  and 
glanced  on  the  glossy  magnolias  that  fringed  the 
river’s  brink,  nothing  could  be  more  beautiful  than 
the  contrast  of  shades  which  the  deep  green  of  the 
towering  hemlocks  and  the  light  leaves  of  the  buck- 
eye and  paw-paw  afforded.  I began  soon  to  as- 
cend a mountain,  and  there  too  the  deep  woods  af- 
forded other  objects  of  interest.  The  squirrels 
pranked  it  away  among  the  leafy  boughs  as  pertly 
near  me  as  if  wholly  free  from  fear : the  timid  rab- 
bit made  the  last  year’s  leaves  rustle,  as,  affrighted 
by  the  sound  of  my  horse’s  hoofs,  he  darted  beneath 
his  bushy  covert, — and  the  red-bird  and  gold- winged 
woodpecker  playqd  fearlessly  about  my  path,  while 
the  wood-doves  alighted  like  tame  pigeons  in  the 
road,  or  fluttered  for  miles  along  it.  Emerging 
from  this  forest — where  many  a tree  would  throw 
a column  of  ninety  feet  shaft  above  thickets  rich 
with  the  white  blossom  of  the  dog-wood  and  the 
deep  verdure  of  the  may-apple — a ride  of  a mile  or 


.174 


FAREWELL  TO  KENTUCKY. 

I 


two  through  a beautiful  undulating  amphitheatre 
brought  me  to  the  base  of  the  Cumberland  moun- 
tains. Their  unbroken  chain  extended  far  away  on 
either  side,  to  the  north-east  or  south-west,  from 
“ The  Gap”  in  front  of  me,  which  is,  I believe,  the 
only  defile  by  which  they  are  passed.  This  notch 
in  the  rocky  ridge,  though  its  sides  are  so  steep  as 
to  appear  as  if  worn  away  by  the  action  of  water,  is 
still  so  elevated  above  the  adjacent  country  as  to  af- 
ford a prospect  of  the  grandest  description.  Which- 
ever way  the  eye  turns,  its  view  is  terminated  by 
wooded  summits : but  the  Cumberland  chain  itself 
is  so  narrow  that  you  can  almost  see  the  base  on 
either  side,  while  the  intermediate  distances  be- 
tween it  and  the  detached  heights  around  are  filled 
with  meadows,  and  orchards,  and  bright  streams, 
and  craggy  promontories,  blended  together  in  the 
most  picturesque  confusion. 

It  was  my  last  look  at  beautiful  Kentucky,  and 
I lingered  on  the  magnificent  landscape,  as  the 
breeze  of  day  became  hushed  upon  the  hill-side, 
till  the  growing  twdlight  shut  it  from  my  view.  It 
was  my  last  look  at  beautiful  Kentucky, — and  I 
could  not  but  recall,  while  slowly  turning  my  horse’s 
head  from  the  setting  sun,  the  emotions  which  the 
patriarch  Boone  has  recorded,  when  that  bold  ad- 
venturer first  pushed  beyond  the  mountains,  and  at 
the  same  golden  hour,  and  perhaps  from  the  very 
height  where  I was  then  standing,  looked  down 
upon  the  wilderness  of  tufted  blossoms  before  him.* 

* “ After  a long  and  fatiguing  journey  through  a mountainous 
wilderness,  in  a westward  direction,  1 at  last,  from  the  top  of  an  emi- 


MOUNTAIN  INN. 


175 


The  whippoorwill  was  already  beginning  to  call 
from  the  hill-side,  when  I reached  the  little  inn  from 
which  I write,  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain ; and  the 
smooth  cascade  that  glides  over  a tall  cliff  in  the 
rear  of  the  house  shone  amid  the  dusky  cedars  like 
a pillar  of  light  beneath  the  uprising  moon. 

Such  a spot  is  not  to  be  met  with  every  day  of 
one’s  life ; and  I determined,  as  soon  as  I found  I 
could  be  accommodated  in  the  inn,  to  spend  some 
time  in  looking  around  me.  I have  been  amply 
repaid  by  passing  a day  in  exploring  the  finest  ca- 
vern I have  ever  beheld.  But  as  it  is  worthy  of  a 
letter  by  itself,  I will  endeavour  to  describe  it  in 
my  next. 

nence,  saw  with  pleasure  the  beautiful  land  of  Kentucky.  * * It 
was  in  June;  and  at  the  close  of  day  the  gentle  gales  retired,  and 
left  the  place  to  the  disposal  of  a profound  calm;  Not  a breeze  shook 
the  most  tremulous  leaf.  I had  gained  the  summit  of  a commanding 
ridge,  and,  looking  round  with  astonishing  delight,  beheld  tne  ample 
plains,  the  beauteous  tracts. below.  * * * Nature  was  here  a series 
of  wonders,  and  a fund  of  delight.  Here  she  displayed  her  ingenu- 
ity and  industry  in  variety  of  flowers  and  fruits,  beautifully  coloured, 
elegantly  shaped,  and  charmingly  flavoured;  and  I was’  diverted 
with  innumerable  animals  presenting  themselves  continually  before* 
my  view.  * * * The  buffaloes  were  more  frequent  than  I have  seen 
cattle  in  the  settlements,  browsing  on  the  leaves  of  the  cane,  or  crop- 
ping the  herbage  on  these  extensive  plains,  fearless  because  ignorant 
of  man.” — [Narrative  of  Colonel  Daniel  Boone,  from  his  first  arrival 
in  Kentucky  in  1769.  to  the  year  1782  ] 


176 


NEUTRAL  GROUND. 


LETTER  XXXVIII. 

- C'  ' • N . > 

Neutral  Ground — Rocky  Dens — A Cavern  explored — Gallery 
of  Pillars— Curious  Grotto — The  Music  room. 

Cumberland  Gap,  April  B,  1834. 

There  are  three  or  four  houses  within  as  many 
hundred  yards  of  the  little  inn  at  which  I am  stay- 
ing ; but  this  appears  to  be  the  only  tenanted  one 
in  the  neighbourhood.  It  lies  upon  the  edge  of  a 
grove  of  pines,  facing  the  road,  with  a green  mea- 
dow on  one  side,  and  the  crags  of  the  Cumberland 
range  impending  immediately  over  it  on  the  other. 
The  dividing  lines  of  Kentucky,  Tennessee,  and 
Virginia  here  intersect  each  other ; and  the  trian- 
gular section  thus  made  on  the  confines  of  these 
three  “ sovereign  and  independent  states,”  is  re- 
puted to  be  a sort  of  neutral  ground,  so  far  as  the 
‘operation  of  the  laws  of  either  is  concerned.  A 
gang  of  counterfeiters  and  coiners  of  false  money 
are  said  to  have  their  workshops  among  the  deep 
glens  adjacent.  I am  told  that  they  mingle  with 
the  people  in  the  most  impudent  manner.*  Their 
fast  horses  carry  them  when  suspected  soon  beyond 
the  reach  of  immediate  pursuit;  and  the  seclusion 
of  their  rocky  dens  prevents  their  being  subsequently 

* Whimsically  enough,  the  individual  who  gave  the  writer  this 
information  subsequently  palmed  a copper  dollar  upon  him. 


ROCKY  DENS*  1 If 7 

ferreted  out, — ^supposing  even  that  the  sheriff’s  offi- 
cers should  be  anxious  to  encounter  these  “ Cum- 
berland riders*”  You  may  form  some  idea  of  the 
facilities  for  retirement  afforded  here  to  these  gen- 
try, by  accompanying  me  now  through  the  cavern 
mentioned  in  my  last.  There  is  a mountain  tor- 
rent within  pistol-shot  of  the  house,  and  by  follow- 
ing it  up  about  a quarter  of  a mile,  you  come  to 
where  it  rushes  from  a small  opening  in  the  hill- 
side. 

Passing  about  a hundred  yards  ahead,  the  gorge, 
which  farther  down  affords  a channel  to  the  brook, 
is  abruptly  terminated  by  a precipitous  rock ; and 
here,  in  the  face  of  this  rock,  overhung  by  drooping 
weeds  and  wild  flowers,  is  the  entrance  to  the  cave* 
It  is  a ragged  aperture,  about  six  feet  in  diameter, 
sloping  downward  from  the  brink  internally  about 
fifteen  feet ; and  when  the  sun  is  in  certain  posi- 
tions, you  may  from  the  outside  catch  a glimpse  of 
the  brook  before  spoken  of,  as  it  gleams  over  the 
floor  of  the  cavern,  while  keeping  its  way  to  the 
outlet  lower  down  the  mountain.  I had  four  guides 
with  me,  each  of  whom  carried  torches ; and  after 
lighting  them  at  the  entrance,  and  supplying  myself 
with  a long  pole  to  steady  my  descent  down  the 
first  steep,-  we  entered  the  mouth  of  the  cave.  A 
few  steps  in  the  shallow  water  at  the  bottom  led  to 
a sudden  turn,  where  the  daylight  was  at  once  ex- 
cluded ; and  uniting  our  torches  together,  to  throw 
their  collected  light  in  advance,  we  discovered  that 
we  could  only  continue  our  route  by  entering  a deep 
pool  about  breast-high,  which  lay  clear  as  crystal 

VOL.  II. — Q 


178 


A CAVE  JIN  EXPLORED. 


before  us.  Jn  the  middle  of  this  pool  a detached 
crag  hung  from  above,  so  near  to  the  water’s  edge 
as  to  skreen  the  path  beyond ; and  before  entering 
the  water  I sent  one  of  the  party  ahead  to  ascertain 
whether  there  was  any  dry  footing  beyond.  He 
shrunk  at  first  from  the  icy  water;  but  after  pausing 
a moment,  when  it  threatened  to  reach  his  shoul- 
ders, soon  disappeared  behind  the  curtain  ; and  list- 
ening to  his  splashes  a moment  or  two  longer,  we 
were  glad  at  last  to  hear  his  call  to  “ come  on.” 

Our  path  in  advance  did  not  seem  to  improve 
much,  however,  as  we  gained  the  point  proposed ; 
for,  after  advancing  a few  paces  over  a floor  of  rock 
and  sand,  another  pool,  still  broader,  and  almost  of 
equal  depth,  lay  yet  before  us — ce  rCest  que  le  pre- 
mier pas , &c.- — and  so  we  went  ahead,  while  our 
route  through  this  damp  and  narrow  gallery  soon 
terminated  in  a lofty  and  dry  chamber  some  fifteen 
feet  in  diameter.  This  was  called  “ The  Fire- 
room,”  and  here  we  proceeded  to  kindle  some  fuel 
brought  with  us,  and  prepare  for  our  farther  advance 
into  these  dark  domains.  On  the  upper  side  of  this 
chamber,  whose  floor  was  a rough  inclined  plane 
of  about  forty-five  degrees,  there  was  a narrow  hole 
called  “ The  Blast,”  barely  large  enough  for  the  ad- 
mission of  a man’s  body.’  Through  this  aperture 
the  wind  rushed  with  such  force  as  actually  to  be- 
wilder one,  and  of  course  extinguish  a torch  instantly 
when  placed  in  contact  with  it.  The  passage  it 
afforded  ran  in  an  upward  direction,  and  was  about 
five  yards  in  length.  Having  supplied  himself  with 
a brand  from  the  fire,  our  principal  guide  led  the 


GALLERY  OF  PILLARS* 


179 


way  through  the  crevice,  and  we  successively  fol- 
lowed, crawiing  after  him  on  our  hands  and  knees. 

This,  I confess,  was  rather  disagreeable ; but 
when  the  torches  were  again  lit,  and  I could  look 
around  me,  I felt  myself  amply  repaid.  The  apart- 
ment, which  from  its  smooth,  dome-like  roof  is 
called  “ The  Oven,”  would  cover  an  area,  I should 
think,  judging  by  the  imperfect  light,  of  at  least 
forty  feet  diameter ; though  the  immense  rocks 
which  lie  in  massive  piles  upon  its  floor  render  it 
difficult  to  judge  of  its  dimensions.  These  rocks 
formed  a rough  knoll  in  the  centre ; and  clamber- 
ing with  some  difficulty  to  the  top,  we  pursued  our 
way  along  a rocky  ridge,  whose  profile  might  have 
been  borrowed  from  the  external  features  of  any  of 
the  mountains  around.  We  seemed,  indeed,  from 
the  numerous  rises  and  descents  along  our  route,  to 
be  traversing  the  broken  summit  of  a mountain, 
with  merely  the  roof  of  a cave  instead  of  the  canopy 
of  heaven  above  us. 

At  length,  however,  we  descended  into  a long 
narrow  apartment,  called  “ The  Saloon.”  It  had  a 
high  square  ceiling  and  a firm  floor  of  clay, — firm 
enough,  indeed,  for  the  foot  of  a dancer.  This,  I 
learned  from  my  guides,  was  the  favourite  room  of 
the  place ; but,  though  certainly  a most  comfortable 
looking  chamber  for  a picknick,  I did  not  think  it 
compared  with  the  apartment  into  which  I was  soon 
after  ushered.  “The  Gallery  of  Pillars”  realized 
all  that  I had  ever  read  of  those  sparry  halls  that 
lift  their  glistening  columns  and  sport  their  fairy 
tracery  within  the  bowels  of  the  earth.  The  form 


180 


A CURIOUS  GROTTO 


of  the  grotto  was  so  irregular  that  it  was  nearly  im- 
possible to  make  an  estimate  of  its  dimensions. 
The  innumerable  stalactites,  sometimes  pendent 
from  the  roof,  and  sometimes  raising  themselves  in 
single  columns  from  the  floor,  were  so  clustered 
together  and  intermingled,  that  the  actual  walls  of 
the  subterranean  chamber  were  excluded  from  view; 
while  the  light"  of  our  torches,  as  we  waved  them 
aloft,  would  at  one  moment  be  reflected  back  from 
a thousand  fretted  points,  and  be  lost  the  next  in 
some  upward  crevice  that  led  away  the  bats  alone 
knew  where. 

But  the  most  striking  object  in  this  fairy  cell  is 
yet  to  be  mentioned.  It  was  a formation  of  spar 
resembling  a frozen  waterfall,  that  reared  itself  to 
the  height  of  fifteen  or  twenty  feet,  and  ran  coffi- 
pletely  across  one  end  of  the  chamber.  The  ceib 
ing  of  the  grotto  was  about  ten  feet  higher,  but  the 
petrifying  water,  which  was  now  dripping  from  the 
hanging  stalactites  above,  had  united  them  here  and 
there  with  the  top  of  this  marble  cascade,  so  as  to 
form  a Gothic  skreen  of  sparry  points  and  pillars 
along  its  otherwise  smooth  round  summit.  One  of 
the  guides  succeeded  with  the  aid  of  his  compa- 
nions in  scaling  the  slippery  elevation,  and  drawing 
his  body  with  difficulty  between  the  dropping  pil- 
lars that  knit  the  top  of  the  congealed  cascade  to 
the  roof  of  the  grotto,  he  disappeared  in  perfect 
darkness  behind  the  skreen,  A moment  after  it 
seemed  as  if  a hundred  lamps  were  dancing  in  that 
part  of  the  cavern.  He  had  merely  lighted  a cou- 
ple of  candles  with  which  he  was  supplied,  and 


THE  MUSIC-ROOM, 


181 


placed  them  so  as  to  be-  reflected  from  the  minute 
and  interlacing  fretwork  above. 

There  was  yet  another  chamber  to  be  explored ; 
and  being  now  about  half  a mile  from  the  mouth  of 
the  cave,  it  behooved  us,,  if  we  wished  to  derive  any 
benefit  from  our  lights  in  returning,,  to  expedite  our 
movements.  Passing,  then,  from  the  grotto,  the 
uneven  floor  of  which  was  partly  paved  with  trun- 
cated columns  of  spar,  and  partly  strewn  with  bro- 
ken pillars  that  some  barbarous  hands  had  wrenched 
from  their  places,  we  crawled  over  huge  rocks, 
where  the  roof  of  the  cavern  descended  to  within 
three  or  four  feet  of  the  broken  floor,  and  came  to  a 
rugged  declivity,  seamed  by  deep  and  dark  chasms, 
which  rendered  the  descent  difficult  and  perilous. 
When  we  had  gained  the  bottom  of  this  precipice 
and  looked  up,  the  top  of  the  cavern  was  scarcely 
discernible  by  the  light  of  our  torches.  A limpid 
brook,  about  a foot  in  depth,  had  here  channelled  its 
way  in  the  smooth  limestone : following  it  up  for  a 
few  yards,  a sudden  turn  brought  us  to  a long  semi- 
circular gallery,  about  five  feet  in  height,  and  hardly 
more  in  breadth.  This,  from  the  singular  echoes  it 
produced,  was  called  “ The  Music-room and  no 
whispering  gallery  could  supply  a more  remarkable 
phenomenon  of  sound.  The  lowest  tone  of  voice 
produced  a murmur  that  trembled  through  the  apart- 
ment, like  the  humming  sound  created  by  striking 
upon  the  wood-work  of  a guitar, — or  rather,  I may 
assimilate  the  effect  produced  by  some  tones,  the 
bass  ones  particularly,  to  the  low  notes  which  a 
harp  will  send  forth  when  the  keys  of  a piano  are 

Q2 


182 


THE  MUSIC-ROOM. 


touched  near  it.  I was  very  sorry  that  we  had  not 
a musical  instrument  of  some  kind  with  us,  to  ex- 
periment more  particularly  upon  these  delicate  and 
not  unmelodious  echoes.  This  room  was  nearly  in 
the  form  of  a crescent,  and  its  smooth  ceiling  sloped 
gradually  at  the  farther-  end  till  it  touched  the  sur- 
face of  the  winding  rivulet.  At  that  point  the 
stream  became  both  broader  and  deeper  ; and  the 
cavern  not  having  been  yet  explored  beyond  this 
chamber,  I proposed  diving  into  the  brook  where  it 
disappeared  beneath  the  descending  roof,  and  as- 
certaining whether  it  were  not  possible  to  rise  in  an 
open  space  beyond. 

The  principal  guide,  however,  declared  that  he 
had  already  tried  the  experiment,  and  had  nearly 
been  suffocated  by  getting  his  head  above  water  in 
a crevice  of  the  dropping  vault,  from  which  it  was 
difficult  to  extricate  himself.  We  prepared,  there- 
fore, to  retrace  our  steps  ; and  our  lights  being 
nearly  exhausted,  we  reduced  their  number  to  two 
while  winding  again  through  the  devious  labyrinth. 
After  once  or  twice  slightly  missing  the  way,  I 
emerged  at  last  from  this  nether  world,  highly  gra- 
tified with  my  subterranean  wanderings. 


COUNTY  TOWN. 


18$ 


LETTER  XXXIX. 

County  Town — Drowsy  Region — An  Outcry — A Real  Scream* 
or — Village  Uproar — Conversation — Contentment. 

Tazewell,  Tennessee,  April  21,  1834. 

I write  to  you  from  a small  county  town  in 
Tennessee.  It  is  composed  of  about  a hundred 
wooden  houses,  scattered  along  a broad  street, 
which  traverses  the  side  of  a high  hill  or  mountain 
slope,  and  which,  though  partly  shut  in  by  wooded 
elevations,  still  commands  a wide  view  of  cultivated 
country.  This  is  the  first  day  of  court-week,  and 
the  village,  which  presents  rather  a desolate  appear- 
ance, from  the  want  of  shrubbery  or  ornamental  en- 
closures of  any  kind  around  the  houses,  is  some- 
what enlivened  by  the  troops  of  country  people 
moving  to  and  fro.  There  is  a group  of  the  white 
beaver  and  hunting  shirt  gentry  collected  at  this  mo- 
ment around  a blood-horse,  whose  points  a groom  is 
showing  off  opposite  to  my  window ; and  farther  up 
the  street,  round  the  steps  of  the  little  unpainted 
wooden  court-house,  is  a collection  of  old  women,  in 
scarlet  cloaks  or  plaid  wTrappers,  gossipping  together. 

I entered  Tazewell  about  sunset,  a day  or  two 
since.  My  horse  had  fallen  lame  within  ten  miles 
of  the  place ; and  taking  the  bridle  in  my  hand,  I 
trudged  leisurely  along,  till  I gained  the  inn,  where 


184 


DROWSY  REGION. 


1 have  established  myself.  The  afternoon  was 
perfectly  still,  and  a herd  of  cows,  which  a mounted 
negro  was  urging  homeward,  were  the  only  objects 
stirring  in  the  town.  I could  discern,  however,  that 
it  was  inhabited,  from  seeing  the  village  tailor  and 
other  dignitaries  of  the  place  lounging  upon  rush- 
bottomed  chairs  in  front  of  their  dwellings,  while 
the  lazy  vapour  that  curled  from  their  pipes,  in  the 
evening  air,  bespoke  a sort  of  indolent  repose,  such 
as  whilom  reigned  in  the  drowsy  region  of  Sleepy 
Hollow.  I looked  from  my  window  in  the  morning, 
and  there,  at  ten  o’clock,  sat  the  same  set  of  luxu- 
rious worthies,  a low  chuckle  or  a short  laugh,  as 
some  acknowledged  wag  doled  out  his  good  things, 
being  the  only  sound  of  animation  that  met  niy  ears. 
I looked  when  the  heat  of  the  noonday  sun  had 
made  their  position  no  longer  tenable,  and  the  indus- 
trious Tazewellites  had  retired  within  doors  to  their 
various  avocations.  Evening,  with  its  shadows, 
brought  them  again,  also ; and,  maugre  the  example 
of  my  attentive  and  stirring  little  landlord,  I found 
that  I had  imbibed  a portion  of  the  indolence  pre- 
vailing around  me.  I sauntered  across  the  wray, 
and  lighted  my  cigar  by  the  most  accessible  looking 
of  the  company ; and  dropping  into  an  unoccupied 
chair,  balanced  it  on  two  legs,  with  an  air  that  at 
once  made  good  my  claim  to  a share  in  their  gossip. 

I had  just  got  comfortably  embarked  with  one  of 
the  seniors  in  a quiet  dish  of  local  politics,  when  an 
outcry,  a few  yards  off,  attracted  our  attention. 
Stepping  up  to  the  group  of  persons  from  which  it 
arose,  I saw  a queer-looking  little  bantam  figure,  in 


A REAL  SCREAMER. 


185 


an  old  straw  hat  and  coarse  shrunk-up  hunting-shirt, 
who  appeared  to  be  in  the  highest  paroxysm  of  rage. 
At  one  moment,  he  would  vent  his  fury  in  a torrent 
of  outrageous  epithets,  and  then,  griping  the  shrunk- 
en skirt  of  his  hunting-shirt  with  one  hand,  while 
the  other  was  shaken  angrily  at  the  crow'd,  he  would 
leap  a yard  in  the  air,  turning  round  on  his  heel  as 
he  came  down,  and  crowing  like  a game  cock.  In 
performing  this  evolution,  I caught  a sight  of  his 
face  by  the  moonlight,  and  discovered  that  he  had 
undergone  a very  common  piece  of  western  wag- 
gery, having  had  his  face  blacked,  while  lying  asleep 
in  a state  of  intoxication. 

Who  has  dared  to  make  a nigger  of  me  ?” 
shouted  the  unfortunate  votary  of  Bacchus,  as  I ap- 
proached him,  dilating  his  little  pony-built  person 
with  great  pomposity;  “ who  dared  treat  little  John 
like  a brute  ? Let  me  but  get  at  him,  and  I’ll  drink 
his  blood.  I’ll  eat  his  liver”  (gnashing  his  teeth) ; 
“ if  God  has  breathed  the  breath  of  man  into  him, 
let  him  speak,  and  I’ll  knock  it  out.  Little  John  is 
not  the  man  to  be  walked  over;  little  John  never 
insulted  anybody,  but  he  knows  bow  to  mount 
them  that  don’t  treat  , him  like  a gentleman, — 
wheugh,  whoop,  whoop  ! — whe-ug-h  ! — I’m  a real 
screamer!”  And  here  he  bounced  up,  crowing  in 
the  air,  as  if  he  had  springs  in  his  heels. 

“I’m  the  man,  John,”  cried  one  of  the  crowd, 
throwing  off  his  coat. — “You,  you,  indeed !”  answer? 
ed  the  little  champion,  without  stirring  from  the 
spot;  “Why,  Bill,  you  know  you  lie  ! You  wouldn’t 
dare  to  play  such  a trick  on  me ; but  only  let  me 


186 


VILLAGE  UPROAR. 


catch  the  real  fellow.” — “ It’s  a shame,  a shame,  to 
treat  John  so,”  cried  half  a dozen  voices  around. — 
“ No,  no,  it’s  no  shame  ; it’s  only  a shame,  that  the 
black  villain  should  hide  himself  after  he  did  it ; 
thank  God,  John  can  take  care  of  himself” — (here 
he  flapped  his  arms,  and  crowed  defiance).  “ I’m 
as  good  a bit  of  man’s  flesh  as  skin  ever  covered” 
(here  he  crowed  again).  “ I’m  the  first-born  of  my 
mother,  and  knock  under  to  no  white  man.  ‘ John,’ 
says  she,  ‘you  are  a true  one,’ — and  so  I am.  My 
mother  knows  I am  as  good  a little  fellow  as  ever 
mother  brought  forth  : she  said  I was  a screamer 
the  moment  she  saw  me;  ‘John,’  says  she,’  ‘you’re 
a real  out-and-outer;’  and  am  I not?”  (crowing:) 
“ who  says  little  John  was  ever  afraid  of  man  or 
beast?  Come  out  here,  any  ten  of  you,  and  I’ll 
mount  you  one  after  another.” 

The  rapidity  with  which  these  whimsical  expres- 
sions of  wrath,  and  thrice  as  many  more,  were  pour- 
ed upon  each  other,  was  perfectly  astonishing ; and 
the  mad  antics  with  which  the  valorous  little  fellow 
accompanied  them  were  irresistibly  ludicrous.  At 
length  his  rage  appeared  nearly  to  have  spent  itself, 
and  he  listened  with  some  c-omposure  to  the  wicked 
wags  who,  collecting  around  him,  pretended  to 
sympathize  in  his  wrongs.  One  of  them  even  un- 
dertook to  wash  his  face  for  him ; but  smearing  it 
over  with  oil  as  his  patient  bent  over  the  basin,  the 
inky  dye  became  so  fixed  in  the  pores  that  the  office 
of  eradicating  it  must  have  been  no  sinecure.  It 
was  then  proposed  to  bring  him  a looking-glass ; 
which  I presume  was^  done,  for,  pausing  a moment 


CONVERSATION. 


187 


on  the  steps,  ere  I entered  my  lodgings,  in  expec- 
tation of  another  explosion,  I heard  the  merrymakers 
shouting  with  peals  of  laughter,  while  poor  little 
John  seemed  to  have  retired,  completely  done  up. 

I could  not  help  reflecting,  while  retiring  for  the 
night,  that  the  subject  of  all  this  village  uproar, — - 
who,  in  language  and  manners,  was  an  exact  imper- 
sonation of  the  western  character,  as  it  is  generally 
portrayed, — was  anything  but  a fair  specimen  of 
the  western  population ; for,  though  you  meet  with 
some  such  extravagant  character  in  almost  every 
hamlet,  you  might  as  well  form  your  idea  of  the 
New  England  yeomanry  from  the  Yankee  pedlers 
that  prowl  through  the  western  states,  as  conceive 
that  the  mass  of  the  population  over  the  mountains 
are  of  this  “ half-horse  and  half-alligator”  species. 
I had  a long  conversation  this  morning  with  a mid- 
dle-aged country  lawyer,  upon  western  life  and  cha- 
racter, in  which  I gave  my  sentiments  with  great 
freedom  ; and  though,  like  our  countrymen  in  every 
part  of  the  Union,  he  was  sufficiently  exacting  of 
the  praise  of  strangers,  he  did  not  seem  to  take  of- 
fence at  some  of  my  observations,  which  were  not 
altogether  palatable. 

“ Well,  sir,”  he  began,  after  bidding  me  good 
morning,  “ what  do  you  think  of  oar  country  ?” 

“ It  is  a rifth  and  beautiful  one,  sir.” 

“ There’s  no  two  ways  about  that,  sir ; but  aren’t 
you  surprised  to  see  such  a fine  population  ?” 

“You  have  certainly  a fine-looking  set  of  men, 
with  good  manners,  and  a great  deal  of  natural  intel- 
ligence.” 


188 


CONVERSATION. 

“ But  their  knowledge  of  things,  sir,  and  the  way 
in  which  they  live — don’t  you  think  our  plain  coun- 
try people  live  in  a very  superior  way,  sir  ?” 

“ Have  you  ever  been  in  the  northern  or  eastern 
states,  sir  ?— New  York  or  New  England  ?”  I re- 
plied. While  answering  negatively,  he  gave  a look 
of  utter  amazement  at  the  idea  of  comparing  those 
districts  with  that  in  which  he  lived. 

I then, — while  doing  justice  to  the  many  attractive 
points  in  the  character  of  these  mountaneers,  their 
hardihood  and  frank  courtesy  to  strangers,  their  easy 
address,  and  that  terseness  of  expression  and  com- 
mand of  language  which  often  strikes  and  interests 
you  in  the  conversation  of  men  who  actually  can- 
not read* — explained  to  him  the  superiority  which 
greater  industry  and  acquired  knowledge  of  useful 
facts  gives  the  northern  man,  of  the  same  class,  in 
providing  comforts  and  conveniences  for  himself 
and  family,  and  living  in  a style  that  approaches 
that  of  the  independent  planter  of  the  West.  But, 
countryman  as  he  was,  I could  not  peisuade  one 
who  had  probably,  in  western  phrase,  been  “raised 
on  hog  and  hominy,”  and  kept  all  his  life  on  “bacon 
and  greens,”  of  the  advantages  of  a thoroughly  cul- 
tivated garden,  a well-kept  dairy,  and  flourishing 
poultry-yard ; much  less  could  I make  him  under- 
stand the  charm  which  lay  in  neat  enclosures,  and 
a sheltered  porch  or  piazza,  with  shrubbery  cluster- 
ing around  it;  He  only  replied,  when  I commented 
upon  the  fields,  which  I sometimes  saw,  that  had 
run  out  from  indolence  or  bad  tillage,  that  “ there 
was  land  enough  to  make  new  ones ;”  and  added, 


LIMESTONE  CAVERN. 


189 


as  we  placed  ourselves  at  the  breakfast-table,  “ that 
if  the  people  did  not  live  up  to  other  people’s  ideas, 
they  lived  as  well  as  they  wanted  to.  They  didn’t 
want  to  make  slaves  of  themselves  ; they  were  con- 
tented with  living  as  their  fathers  lived  before  them.” 
I remember,  while  passing  him  an  old-fashioned 
salt-cellar  over  our  frugal  table,  that  he  had  Horace* 
on  his  side,  and  could  not  but  acknowledge  that 
contentment  was  the  all  in  all. 


LETTER  XL. 


Limestone  Cavern — Mountain  Fastnesses — Advance  of  Civiliza- 
tion— Frontier  Strife — Indian  Remains — Gigantic  Remains,  Human 
—Love  of  the  Marvellous. 


Tazewell,  Tennessee,  April  22,  1834. 

I have  explored  another  limestone  cavern  since  I 
last  wrote  to  you;  and,  though  by  no  means  so  grand 
an  object  of  curiosity  as  that  at  Cumberland  Gap, 
I have  found  it  well  worth  visiting.  It  is  about 
two  miles  from  Tazewell,  and  the  entrance  is  on 
the  side  of  a lofty  wooded  hill,  of  a shape  nearly 
conical.  There  are  two  mouths,  and  the  one  by 
which  I entered  is  larger  than  that  of  the  cave  de- 
scribed in  my  last ; but  the  passage,  a few  yards 
from  the  entrance,  is  so  narrow  as  to  admit  but  one 

* “ Vivitur  parvobenecui  paternum, 

Splendet  in  mensa  tenui  salinum,”  &c. 


VOL.  II, — R 


190 


LIMESTONE  CAVERN. 


person  abreast.  It  descends,  for  a while,  in  a sort 
of  screwing  path,  deep  into  the  mountain;  you  then 
come  to  a small  chamber,  with  a floor  of  earth  and 
loose  stones,  from  which  three  narrow  paths  di- 
verge ; the  chief  of  these,  after  several  turns,  brings 
you  to  a high  vaulted  apartment,  with  several  aper- 
tures in  its  wralls,  leading  off  to  winding  galleries, 
which  frequently  intersect  each  other.  In  this 
apartment,  there  is  a fine  spring,  which  discharges 
itself  over  a precipice,  within  the  cave.  I did  not 
fathom  the  depth ; but  the  light  of  a candle,  held 
over  the  brink,  did  not  reach  the  bottom  ; and  I es- 
timated, from  the  sound  the  water  made  in  falling, 
that  it  could  not  be  less  than  fifty  feet.  The  pas- 
sages diverging  from  this  part  of  the  cavern  seemed 
to  be  innumerable,  and  intersected  each  other  so 
often,  both  vertically  and  horizontally,  that  the 
whole  mountain  appeared  to  be  honeycombed:  but 
I could  discover  no  other  chamber  worthy  of  notice, 
except  that  in  which  the  spring  had  birth. 

After  traversing  half  the  labyrinth,  sometimes 
descending  a declivity  of  a dozen  yards,  and  at 
others  climbing  an  ascent  of  as  many  more,  grop- 
ing along  the  . edges  of  precipices,  and  squeezing  my 
body  through  holes  that  would  interpose  a remora 
to  the  advance  of  the  most  moderate  alderman,  I 
was  at  length  compelled  to  evacuate  the  premises 
as  rapidly  as  possible.  There  being  but  few  large 
chambers  in  the  cave,  the  smoke  of  a fire,  made 
near  the  spring,  in  case  of  any  accident  to  our 
lights,  had  pervaded  the  whole  place,  and  become 
almost  stifling.  Southey,  who  says  that  nitrous 


MOUNTAIN  FASTNESSES. 


191 


oxide  is  the  atmosphere  they  breathe  in  heaven, 
did  not,  when  under  the  hands  of  the  chemist, 
draw  in  the  exhilarating  fluid  with  half  the  gusto 
that  I gulped  dowrn  the  fresh  air,  when  I got  my 
head  once  more  above  the  earth. 

To  give  you  an  idea  of  the  indolent  want  of 
curiosity  in  these  parts,  I might  mention  that  I 
found  but  few  persons  in  Tazewell  who  could  tell 
me  anything  about  this  singular  cavern,  and  was 
ultimately  indebted  for  my  guidance  thither  to  some 
lads  of  the  village,  who  had  only  partially  explored 
it.  But  the  case  of  the  Tazewellians  does  not 
compare  with  that  of  those  worthy  people  who  are 
said  to  have  passed  their  lives  within  hearing  of 
the  thunders  of  Niagara,  without  having  once  sought 
to  see  the  stupendous  phenomenon. 

The  innumerable  caverns  and  mountain  fast- 
nesses of  every  description  in  this  region  would 
make  it  a strong  refuge  in  'time  of  hostile  invasion, 
and  enable  the  inhabitants  to  hold  their  wild  hills 
against  the  armies  of  the  world.  It  has  often 
occurred  to  me  as  very  remarkable,  that  the  abo- 
rigines, throughout  this  broad  mountain  chain,  did 
not  make  a longer  and  more  successful  stand 
against  the  encroachments  of  the  white  population. 
One  would  suppose,  that  they  would  only  have 
been  ejected  from  the  mountain  region  of  western 
Virginia,  and  eastern  Kentucky  and  Tennessee,  by 
some  sudden  and  combined  movement ; but  here, 
as  in  more  champaign  districts,  they  appear  to 
have  retired  gradually,  step  by  step,  before  the 
advances  of  civilization.  Had  there  been  some 


192 


ADVANCE  OF  CIVILIZATION. 


broad  direct  route  through  the  mountains,  either  by 
a navigable  stream  or  a straight  open  valley,  con- 
necting the  settled  countries  on  the  Atlantic  with 
the  tempting  lands  of  western  Kentucky,  and  the 
immense  grazing  and  arable  region  beyond,  the 
whites,  if  allowed  an  unmolested  passage,  would 
probably  have  passed  immediately  to  the  fertile 
regions  in  advance,  and  left  the  hilly  country  to  be 
inhabited,  to  this  day,  by  the  aborigines.  The 
indigenous  mountaineers  would  probably  then,  like 
other  barbarians,  when  surrounded  by  a belt  of 
civilization,  have  been  gradually,  as  game  diminish- 
ed, changed  into  a nation  of  herdsmen ; such, 
indeed,  as  the  Cherokees,  with  other  tribes  farther 
south,  on  this  mountain  chain,  have  partially  be- 
come. Unhappily,  however,  for  the  preservation 
of  the  Indian  race,  the  settlements,  when  originally 
made,  extended  so  widely  along  the  Atlantic  coast, 
that  emigration  has  always  advanced  upon  them  in 
one  broad  opposing  front, — a single  wave  that, 
running  longitudinally  through  the  continent,  has 
carried  away  everything  before  it,  as  it  swept  to 
the  westward ; while  want  of  knowledge  of  the 
richer  prizes  to  be  acquired  by  penetrating  at  once 
to  the  far  west,  or  possibly  the  previous  existence 
of  the  long  hostile  French  establishments  in  that 
quarter,  has  induced  the  pioneer  to  pause  in  his 
career,  and  to  battle  for,  and  to  conquer,  every  acre 
that  he  passed  over.  A cause  similar  to  the  last, 
viz.  the  neighbourhood  of  the  Spaniards,  when 
Louisiana  was  in  their  possession,  may  have  helped 
to  preserve  their  wild  hills  to  the  Cherokees  ; and 


FRONTIER  STRIFE. 


193 


made  them,  until  the  recent  discovery  of  large 
quantities  of  gold  in  their  country,  the  only  excep- 
tion to  the  general  rule. 

There  are  still  persons  living  in  this  neighbour- 
hood who  remember  the  fierce  war  of  extermina- 
tion among  the  tribes  around.  I have  even  met 
one  aged  man  who  says  that  he  has  hunted  the 
buffalo  east  of  the  mountains  ; and  he  pointed  out 
as  we  rode  along  together,- — for,  though  nearly 
eighty,  he  was  still  on  horseback, — more  than  one 
pass  or  stream  where  bloody  scenes  of  frontier 
strife  had  occurred.  The  Indian^  here,  though,  as 
elsewhere,  must  have  been  very  destructive  of  each 
other  long  before  the  whites  appeared.  A farmer, 
I am  told,  can  scarcely  plough  up  a new  clearing 
without  finding  a bushel  of  arrow-heads. 

An  incident  occurred  to  me  on  the  borders  of 
Kentucky,  some  hundred  and  fifty  miles  from  here, 
which  will  give  you  some  idea  of  the  quantity  of 
these  memorials  of  savage  conflict  in  certain  dis- 
tricts. Seeing  a child  playing  on  the  hearth  with 
an  ancient  stone  hatchet,  at  the  house  of  a farmer, 
where  I passed  the  night,  I immediately  offered 
him  a substitute  for  his  curious  toy.  The  toma- 
hawk, whieh  was  an  unusually  large  one,  was  partly 
broken.  “ Jef,”  said  the  father,  as  his  son  placed 
it  in  my  hands,  uwhat  do  you  give  the  stranger 
such  a thing  as  that  for  ? if  he  cares  about  such 
truck,  go  along  and  bring  him  a better  one  ; there 
are  a dozen  lying  about  the  house.  Don’t,  man- 
nee,  don’t  put  such  a stone  as  that  in  your  saddle- 
bags,” added  he  to  me,  at  the  same  time  picking 

r 2 


194 


INDIAN  REMAINS. 


up  the  hatchet,  and  tossing  it  out  of  the  window. 
The  boy  appeared  the  moment  after  with  several 
in  his  hands,  and  I selected  a tomahawk  of  po- 
lished green  stone,  which,  though  small,  is  the 
most  perfect  specimen  I have  ever  seen. 

I inquired  whether  any  other  Indian  remains 
were  found  in  the  neighbourhood.  The  farmer, 
who  was  quite  an  aged  man,  replied  that  there 
were  several  of  those  ancient  forts  which  I have 
more  than  once  described  to  you,  on  the  rocky 
knobs  around.  “ But,  man-nee,”  said  he,  with  a 
shake  of  his  head,  “ they  were  never  made  by  the 
red  devils  that  we  found  in  the  country ; I can 
show  you  one  with  trees  three  feet  through  on  it ; 
it  would  take  half  of  old  Kentuck  to  pile  up  the 
stuff  the  way  it  lies  there,  in  a sheer  wall  along  the 
edge  of  the  knob.  No,  no,  Indians  never  did  that.” 
I asked  him  then  who  did  it.  “ Why,  who,”  he 
replied,  “but  the  people  whose  bones  we  take  out 
from  under  oaks  that  have  been  a thousand  years 
growing  ; fellows  with  thigh-bones  as  long  as  my 

leg.”  My  friend,  Professor  L , who  was  with 

me  at  the  time,  smiled  at  this  assertion,  and  asked 
the  ancient  whether  any  medical  man  had  ever 
examined  these  bones.  “ Examine  them  !”  an- 
swered the  other  with  a stare;  “and  what  could 
the  doctors  expect  to  find  among  a heap  of  old 
bones?  I mistrust  you  would  say  they  belonged 
to  brutes,  when  I have  seen  many  a skull  as  big 
as  two  of  yours,  and  have  fitted  a jaw-bone  over 
my  own,  when  I could  put  both  hands  between  it 
and  my  cheeks.”  And  the  old  man,  suiting  the 


LOVE  OF  THE  MARVELLOUS. 


195 


action  to  the  word,  held  out  his  chin  with  both 
hands,  with  an  air  of  positiveness  that  put  an  end  to 
all  argument. 

To  assert  the  existence  of  these  gigantic  human 
remains  is  very  common  in  the  west,  but  I have 
not  yet  been  able  to  obtain  a sight  of  any  ; though 
the  old  settler  in  question  averred,  like  many 
others  I have  met  with,  that  his  plough  in  former 
years  turned  up  innumerable  skeletons  of  huge  pro- 
portions. Philosophy,  I know,  laughs  at  these 
traditions,  but  I make  it  a point  to  place  implicit 
faith  in  them ; they  are  among  the  most  character- 
istic productions  of  the  country,  and  should  be 
cherished  as  such  by  every  genuine  lover  of  the 
marvellous,  and  who  would  fain  nurse  up  a little 
credulity  in  these  days  of  general  skepticism. 
Besides,  these  bones,  after  all,  are  only  represented 
as  of  a “reasonable  bigness  the  mortals  of  whom 
they  were  the  frame-work  were  not  of  that  genera- 
tion that  a grave  historian*  tells  us  ate  up  a bullock 
at  a meal,  and  picked  their  teeth  with  the  horns ; 
but  middle-sized  fellows,  some  eight  or  ten  feet 
high  only,  who  bore  about  the  same  proportion  to 
the  mammoth  that  a grenadier  does  to  an  elephant. 
I intend  to  take  some  opportunity  of  digging  for 
one  of  these  worthies,  and  should  I disinter  him 
whole,  the  tall  gentleman  shall  bestride  my  pony, 
and  share  my  saddle  with  me  till  we  reach  home. 
Happily,  in  thus  turning  resurrectionist,  one  incurs 
no  danger  from  the  surviving  relatives  of  a suit  “ de 
bonis  asportatis.” 

* Diedrick  Knickerbocker* 


196 


WESTERN  VIRGINIA. 


LETTER  XLI. 

Western  Virginia — Love  of  Variety — Disconsolate  Female — 
Tavern  Salutation — Old  Tom — A Yankee  Pedler — Sectional  Pre- 
j udices — Sobriquets. 

Jones ville,  Lee  County,  Virginia,  April  25th,  1834. 

I have  entered  western  Virginia,  and  my  horse’s 
head  is  now  turned  homewards ; but  the  lofty 
Alleghanies  are  yet  between  us,  and  I have  still 
many  a mountain  ridge  to  pass  before  gaining  the 
neutral  ground  where  the  streams  first  begin  to  run 
eastward.  Nor  must  you  wonder  if  I journey  but 
slowly  among  these  wild  hills  ; for  while  the  roads 
are  not  the  most  favourable  to  expeditious  travel- 
ling, there  is  every  inducement  for  one  who  has  an 
eye  for  the  beauties  of  nature  to  linger  by  the  way- 
side.  No  district  of  the  broad  West  that  I have 
yet  visited  is  more  to  my  taste  than  the  bold  and 
magnificent  scenery  of  this  mountain  region.  The 
shadowy  glens  and  frowning  heights  remind  me, 
when  compared  with  the  smooth  and  interminable 
prairies  of  the  far  West,  of  a troubled  sky  with  its 
masses  of  moving  clouds,  whose  varying  volume 
and  shifting  light  each  moment  reward  the  eye 
with  some  new  image  of  grandeur  and  of  power, — 
of  such  a sky  as  this  contrasted  with  the  arched 
vault  when  there  is  not  a speck  to  dim  its  bright 


LOVE  OF  VARIETY. 


197 


surface  ; wheie  not  an  object  breaks  the  untroubled 
depths  of  blue,  but  the  thick-sown  stars  that  pave 
their  wide  expanse.  There  is  glory  enough  in 
both  ; but  the  feeling  inspired  by  the  one  while 
watching  the  gathering  war  or  actual  conflict  of 
the  elements,  is  a stern  joy,  a hurrying  excitement; 
the  emotions  awakened  by  the  other  are  the  earnest 
contemplation  of  beauty  swallowed  up  in  majesty ; 
the  abiding  sense  of  order  that  bespeaks  omni- 
potence. And  yet  so  fond  of  variety  is  the  mind, 
that  the  changing  shadows  of  clouds  and  moun- 
tains would  long  amuse  the  eye,  after  a cloudless 
heaven  or  a boundless  prairie  had  lost  its  power  to 
please,— for  habit  will  make  even  the  sublime 
appear  monotonous. 

I was  musing  to  this  effect  on  the  day  that  I left 
Tazewell,  while,  descending  a mountain  pass  at 
sunset,  I paused  occasionally  to  catch  the  beautiful 
changes  of  light  and  shade,  as  now,  sinking  behind 
the  height  I was  leaving,  the  sun’s  warm  rays  still 
played  among  the  billowy  masses  of  foliage  that 
swelled  along  a towering  ridge  immediately  in  ad- 
vance,— when  my  eye  was  caught  by  a dejected- 
looking  female  figure,  half  sitting,  half  reclining,  at 
the  foot  of  a cliff  near  a sudden  turning  of  the  road. 
I came  so  suddenly  upon  her  wild  resting-place, 
that  it  was  not  until  she  had  started  in  alarm  from 
the  shadowy  nook,  as  my  horse  sheered  at  behold- 
ing such  an  object  in  his  path,  that  I perceived  it 
was  a woman  ; and  then  glancing  at  her  stained  and 
crumpled  bonnet  and  travel-soiled  homespun  dress, 
with  the  coarse  and  much-worn  shoes  that  she  had 


198 


DISCONSOLATE  FEMALE. 


upon  her  feet,  I perceived  she  was  a young  woman 
of  about  twenty,  and  evidently  belonging  to  the 
humbler  walks  of  life.  Her  features,  I thought, 
might  be  pretty,  naturally,  but  they  wore  a look  of 
lassitude  that  was  absolutely  painful.  She  did  not 
speak  as  I passed ; but  turning  round  after  I had 
gained  a few  yards  beyond,  I was  met  by  a sound 
so  imploring  that  I thought  it  could  only  belong  to 
one  that  was  dumb. 

“ Have  I far  to  go,  stranger?”  she  at  length  asked, 
as  turning  on  my  tracks  I again  approached  her. 

“ I cannot  answer  that,  my  good  girl,  till  I know 
whither  you  are  bound.” 

“ And  where  but  to  my  mother,  over  the  moun- 
tains ; is  she  not  dying  ? and  I — I shall  never  have 
the  strength  to  reach  her.  Oh ! sir,”  she  added, 
while  her  eyes  swam  with  tears,  “I  have  not  tasted 
a morsel  of  food  since  some  kind  persons  on  the 
road  let  me  eat  with  them  yesterday ; and  now  I 
am  grown  so  feeble,  I know  I shall  not  get  there  in 
time.”  At  these  words  her  eyes  closed,  while  she 
leaned  her  person  against  the  rock  as  if  about  to  sink 
into  a fainting  fit. 

Having  never  yet  had  the  good  luck  to  bear  a 
swooning  belle  out  of  a ball-room  or  theatre,  I was 
wholly  at  a loss  what  to  do  in  this  emergency,  till 
remembering  a flask  of  whiskey  with  which  I had 
chanced  to  provide  myself  that  very  morning,  as  a 
wash  for  the  chafed  back  of  my  horse,  I did  not 
hesitate  to  lean  over  and  apply  the  restoring  liquid 
to  the  lips  of  the  sinking  damsel.  The  appearance 
of  kindness  and  sympathy  seemed  to  aid  as  much 


ADVICE. 


199 


as  the  draught  itself  in  restoring  her.  But  Venus’s 
cestus  itself  could  not  more  magically  bring  smiles 
and  roses  into  faded  cheeks,  than  did  a cold  corn- 
cake  and  piece  of  smoked  venison,  which,  when 
produced  from  my  pocket,  were  summarily  disposed 
of  by  my  heroine.  Pouring  out  her  thanks  while 
demolishing  the  acceptable  cheer,  she  told  me,  in 
the  fulness  of  her  heart  and  mouth,  that  she  lived 
among  the  hills  in  North  Carolina;  and  having 
heard  that  her  mother,  who  dwelt  in  Tennessee,  was 
at  the  point  of  death,  she  had  left  home,  with  a few 
shillings  tied  in  her  shawl,  to  see  her  parent  once 
more.  The  toils  of  her  journey  had  been  more 
than  once  relieved  by  a passing  emigrant ; but  she 
had  been  now  several  days  travelling  on  foot,  and 
her  last  application  for  aid  having  been  met  with 
insult,  she  had,  though  nearly  overcome  by  fatigue, 
determined  to  push  on  to  the  last  without  courting 
the  chance  of  similar  cruelty.  I took  my  map  from 
my  pocket,  and  guessing  as  nearly  as  possible,  by 
the  route  marked  thereon,  the  distance  the  poor 
girl  had  yet  to  travel,  I supplied  her  with  sufficient 
to  defray  the  trifling  expenses  she  must  incur.  The 
slender  state  of  my  purse  would  not  permit  me  to 
allow  for  any  accidental:  contingency,  and  I thought 
it  well,  when  observing  the  simplicity  with  which 
she  confided  in  a stranger,  to  add  a word  or  two, 
enjoining  her,  if  she  required  farther  assistance,  not 
to  apply  to  any  passing  cavalier  she  might  encoun- 
ter, but  to  seek  it  from  the  hospitable  country  peo- 
ple around.  She  raised  her  eyes  inquiringly,  while 
with  a look  of  gratitude  she  placed  her  hand  in 


200 


TAVERN  SALUTATION. 


mine,  as  I guarded  her  against  travellers  of  my  own 
condition  in  life ; and  somehow, — whether  from  my 
saddle  slightly  turning,  or  from  my  leaning  over  too 
far  while  making  my  words  as  impressive  as  possi- 
ble, I really  don’t  know, — but  my  mouth,  before  I 
knew  it,  came  in  contact  with  as  sweet  a pair  of 
lips 

Spirit  of  Uncle  Toby  ! did  not  the  zeal  with  which 
I dashed  the  spurs  into  my  horse  at  that  moment 
blot  out  the  involuntary  and  almost  unconsciously 
committed  offence  ? The  sober  reflections  induced 
by  entering  a tall  dark  wood,  when  I had  gained  the 
base  of  the  mountain,  suggested  several  curious 
doubts  whether  some  six  or  seven  years’  seniority 
were  really  sufficient  qualifications  for  lecturing  a 
pretty  girl  on  discretion  in  a forest  at  twilight. 

“ Come  in,  stranger,  come  in;  old  Tom  will  call 
the  landlord,  old  Tom  will  tote  your  baggage:  so 
come  in  and  take  a cup  of  cider  with  old  Tom,”  called 
out  to  me  a tall  lean  figure,  with  long  gray  locks 
curling  under  a broad-brimmed  beaver,  as  I rode  up 
about  noon  the  next  day  to  the  only  tavern  in  this 
place  ; “ why,  why  the  devil  don’t  you  come  in,  and 
leave  your  nag  to  the  nigger  ?”  added  he,  as,  waiting 
for  the  landlord  to  appear,  I occupied  myself  in  un- 
strapping my  valise,  and  loosening  the  various  fix- 
tures of  my  cumbersome  but  comfortable  Spanish 
saddle.  I thanked  the  old  gentleman  for  his  civility ; 
but  having  long  since  learned  that  the  best  way  to 
secure  care  and  attention  for  your  horse  in  travel- 
ling, is  to  appear  to  have  some  consideration  for  him 
yourself,  I declined  leaving  my  beast  till  some  one 


OLD  TOM, 


201 


should  appear  to  whom  I could  give  immediate  di- 
rections for  his  grooming  and  disposal  for  the  night, 
“ Well,  now,  that  makes  old  Tom  think  one  ain’t 
used  to  niggers,  to  see  a gentleman  look  after  his 
own  horse,”  exclaimed  the  cider-drinker  impa- 
tiently; ‘Tie’s  a slick  bit  of  a nag  too,”  added  he, 
advancing  from  the  porch,  and  eyeing  my  favoured 
pony  more  narrowly.  “ But  come,  though  you  do 
set  so  much  store  by  him,  I don’t  believe  he  will 
have  any  objections  to  your  taking  some  cider  with 
old  Tom.”  The  landlord,  a young  and  rather  in- 
telligent fellow,  now  coming  up,  I forgot  entirely, 
while  talking  with  him  a few  minutes,  the  impatient 
character  that  had  pounced  upon  me  with  so  much 
earnestness,  and  passed  him  unnoticed  as  I entered 
the  house  and  paid  my  respects  to  a pretty  young 
woman,  who  proved  to  be  my  landlady.  But  I was 
not  to  escape  so  easily:  “ Stranger,”  whispered  the 
old  gentleman,  who,  I may  mention,  was  dressed 
like  a respectable  farmer  of  the  country,  or  small 
planter  of  the  second  class — “ stranger,”  muttered 
he,  seizing  me  by  the  elbow,  “ I want  to  speak  to 
you  outside  the  door. — Now,  sir,”  said  he,  when  we 
had  gained  the  outside  of  the  threshold,  “ I want  to 
know  if  I have  insulted  you- — if  you  take  it  hard 
that  old  Tom,  who,  every  one  knows,  has  the  biggest 
heart  in  the  country,  has  spoken  so  to  you  as  he 
did  ?”  I assured  him  I had  taken  no  offence.  “ Then 
why  the  devil  don’t  you  take  some  cider  with  me  ? 
Didn’t  I come  out  the  moment  you  appeared ? 
didn’t  I call  the  landlord  for  you  ? didn’t  I offer  to 
have  your  horse  taken  ? didn’t  I,”  shouted  he,  ap- 
vol.  ii.- — s 


202 


A YANKEE  PEDLER. 


parently  working  himself  into  a passion,  and  stamp- 
ing the  while,  “ didn’t  I treat  you  like  a gentleman? 
Tell  me,  sir — tell  me,  sir;  don’t  you  know  that  old 
Tom  has  houses,  and  fields,  and  niggers  of  his  own, 
and  is  well  enough  off  in  the  world  to  take  a cup  of 
cider  with  any  of  y’r  quality  ?” 

I generally  make  it  a point  to  humour  these  pri- 
vileged characters,  whenever  I meet  with  them.  In 
the  present  instance,  however,  fatigue,  caprice,  or, 
if  you  will,  a reasonable  impatience  at  the  old  gen- 
tleman’s pertinacity,  caused  me,  as  I jerked  my  arm 
from  his  grasp,  roughly  to  repel  his  importunity. 
But  the  mortification  instantly  betrayed  by  his  fall- 
en features  made  me  regret  the  reply  before  it  had 
wholly  escaped  from  my  lips.  The  old  man  step- 
ped back  a pace  or  two,  and  asked  my  pardon  for 
the  liberty  he  had  taken,  expressing  himself  the 
while  in  very  good  terms.-  I could,  of  course,  only 
accord  my  full  forgiveness.  “ You  forgive  me,  eh?” 
cried  he,  seizing  my  hand ; “ then,  by  G — , stran- 
ger,” with  a slap  on  my  shoulder,  “ come  take  a cup 
of  cider  with  me  !” 

A swelling  of  my  horse’s  withers,  caused  by  the 
pressure  of  the  saddle  in  descending  the  steep  de- 
clivities of  the  mountain  roads,  compels  me  to  re- 
main two  or  three  days  in  this  little  town.  One  of 
the  most  important  characters  of  the  place  is  a flou- 
rishing shopkeeper,  or  country  merchant,  who,  a 
few  years  before,  had  entered  the  village  as  a tra- 
velling Yankee  pedler.  He  took  no  little  pleasure 
in  telling  me  the  story  of  his  own  preferment.  After 
managing,  by  various  shifts,  to  make  his  way  thither 


SECTIONAL  PREJUDICES. 


203 


from  his  far  New-England  home,  he  had  put  up  at 
the  tavern  where  I was  now  staying,  with  a small 
amount  of  goods,  which  he  proposed  “ trading”  to 
the  good  people  around.  The  resident  merchants 
in  the  county,  however,  had  caught  scent  of  the 
itinerant  vender,  and  being  now  in  the  county  town, 
no  time  was  lost  in  seizing  and  punishing  him  under 
the  Virginia  statute  against  hawkers  and  pedlers. 
The  strong  prejudice  existing  against  the  Yankees 
in  the  south-west  (and  all  of  us  north  of  Mason  and 
Dixon’s  line  are  indiscriminately  so  called)  rendered 
this  the  most  summary  and  easy  of  legal  proce- 
dures ; and  the  poor  pedler  was,  by  the  fine  im- 
posed, with  attendant  expenses,  stripped  of  every- 
thing. “ But  my  mother  always  told  me,”  pursued 
he,  in  telling  the  story,  “ that  wherever  I lost  any- 
thing, there  was  the  place  to  find  it ; and  so  I vow- 
ed never  to  leave  this  place  till  I could  go  as  well 
off  as  I came.”  The  result  was,  that  he  remained 
until  his  industry,  intelligence,  and  good  conduct 
had  gradually  won  for  him  both  means  and  charac- 
ter; and  he  now,  I was  informed,  is  one  of  the 
wealthiest  and  most  respected  persons  in  the  place. 

Some,  however,  speak  of  this  elevation  of  a Yan- 
kee among  Virginians  as  a most  portentous  occur- 
rence. In  speaking  of  the  sectional  prejudices  ex- 
isting in  some  of  the  districts  through  which  I have 
passed,  I ought  to  add  that  they  seem  to  be  rapidly 
wearing  away ; and  though  you  yet  find  them  very 
strong  when  departing  at  all  from  the  travelled 
routes,  yet  they  are  chiefly  confined  to  the  vulgar 
and  illiterate.  We  of  the  North  indulge  so  little  in 


204 


SOBRIQUETS. 


sectional  feeling,  that  it  is  difficult  to  conceive  the 
extent  to  which  it  was  once  carried ; and  indeed  it 
still  survives  in  a common  expression  of  the  coun- 
try, “ Is  he  a Yankee  or  a white  man  ?”  I remem- 
ber once  in  Illinois  seeing  a New-York  emigrant,  of 
a good  old  Dutch  provincial  family  from  some  sleepy 
nook  on  the  Hudson,  kindle  with  indignation  as  he 
recounted,  that  while  descending  the  Ohio  fifteen 
years  since,  he  had  been  more  than  once  refused  a 
drink  of  water  because  he  was  a Yankee.  “ You 
know,  squire,”  he  added,  “ I was  no  Yankee ; but 
when  I heard  Americans  reproaching  me  with  a 
name  in  which  they  might  themselves  glory — for 
the  Union  owes  half  its  value  to  the  New-England- 
ers — why,  I let  folks  know  that  I was  proud  of  be- 
ing called  a Yankee.”  “And  what  do  you  call 
yourself  now  ?”  I rejoined.  “ Why  now,  squire,  the 
Yankees  are  becoming  great  people  here  north  of 
us,  in  Michigan  and  so  on,  and  they  call  us  old  Illi- 
noians,  ‘ Suckers.’  We  might  have  a better  nick- 
name, to  be  sure ; but  since  it ’s  stuck,  why  I hold 
myself  identified  with  the  Suckers.  But  some  of 
our  chaps,  who  haven’t  got  used  to  it  yet,  will  be 
likely  to  level  a rifle  at  you  if  you  apply  the  term  at 
random.” 

This  whimsical  application  of  sobriquets  is,  as 
you  are  aware,  religiously  kept  up  in  the  State 
through  which  I am  travelling ; the  Tuckahoes  and 
Coheese  of  Virginia,  on  either  side  of  the  Blue 
Ridge,  respectively  complimenting  each  other  with 
as  much  amiability  as  do  John  Bull  and  Monsieur 
Jean  Crapeau. 


BEAUTIFUL  RIVERS. 


205 


LETTER  XLIT. 

Beautiful  Rivers — -Fertile  Country — Natural  Tunnel — Cavern- 
ous Passage — Mural  Precipice — Fearful  Chasm — Thrilling  Inci- 
dent— A Bold  Cragsman — Hairbreadth  Escape — Another  Escape. 

Chillowee  Springs,  Washington  County, 
Virginia,  May  7,  1834. 

I have  passed  through  so  many  romantic  moun- 
tain paths  and  picturesque  vales,  watered  by  streams 
limpid  as  air,  in  reaching  this  point,  that,  bewildered 
by  the  various  beauties  of  each  different  landscape 
that  has  charmed  me,  I will  only  attempt  to  give 
you  a general  impression  of  all.  There  are  be- 
tween this  place  and  that  from  which  my  last  letter 
was  dated,  six  lofty  mountain  ridges  running  paral- 
lel to  each  other,  each  of  which  supplies  a grand 
and  extensive  prospect.  In  the  intermediate  val- 
leys three  beautiful  rivers, — Powells,  Clinch,  and 
Holston, — -each  a long  rifle-shot  in  width,  and  so 
alike  in  their  transparent  limestone-water,  that  they 
seem  the  reflection  of  each  oilier,  keep  their  way 
almost  at  equal  intervals;  while  their  numerous  tri- 
butary rivulets  are  delayed  in  seeking  the  main 
stream  by  a hundred  interposing  hills,  that  swell 
from  the  vales  as  boldly  as  if  they  would  nod  crest 
for  crest  with  the  loftier  mountain  ridges  of  which 
they  appear  to  have  once  formed  a part. 

These  main  ridges  are  generally  rocky,  and  some* 

s 2 


206 


FERTILE  COUNTRY. 


times,  as  is  the  case  with  the  eastern  side  of  the 
Cumberland  range,  they  run  in  a precipitous  wall 
for  many  miles  ; the  gray  rocks,  capped  with  a 
vigorous  growth  of  evergreens,  rising  in  various  fan- 
tastic shapes  above  the  heavy  forests  which  clothe 
their  base.  The  intermediate  valleys  vary  from  a 
hundred  rods  to  several  miles  in  width.  In  some 
places,  they  are  mere  strips  of  meadow-land;  in 
others,  they  are  vast  basins,  presenting  an  agreeably 
undulating  surface  as  you  traverse  them,*  but  seem- 
ing perfectly  level  when  viewed  from  the  belt  of 
mountains  by  which  they  are  encompassed.  The 
country  is  well  watered,  and  of  great  natural  ferti- 
lity ; but  agriculture  is  conducted  in  so  slovenly  a 
manner,  that  many  fields  are  overgrown  with  mul- 
leins, and  in  fact  completely  worn  out.  The  mode 
of  managing  a farm  appears  to  be,  to  cultivate  a 
piece  of  land  until  it  is  exhausted,  and  then  to  clear 
a new  field,  leaving  the  old  one  to  shoot  up  into 
brushwood,  which,  in  a few  years,  serves  for  the 
cattle  to  browse  upon.  The  “ cattle  ranges,”  how- 
ever, are  generally  the  steep  hill  sides,  which  habit 
teaches  them  to  clamber;  and  more  than  once, 
when  riding  beneath  a cliff,  that  projected  from  the 
mountain  brow  and  frowned  over  the  road  side,  I 
have  seen  a young  bullock  quietly  ruminating  upon 
his  commanding  position,  immediately  above  me. 

Since  I last  wrote  to  you,  I have  explored 
several  more  of  those  limestone  caverns  with  which 
the  country  abounds ; one  of  which,  indeed,  is 

* The  beautiful  valley  in  which  Abingdon  is  situated  is  one  of 
these. 


NATURAL  TUNNEL. 


207 


said  to  extend,  like  an  enormous  cellar,  beneath  the 
village  of  Abingdon,  a flourishing  country  town 
about  twenty  miles  from  this  place ; but  no  cave 
that  I have  yet  seen  compares  with  the  magnificent 
grotto  at  Cumberland  Gap,  which  I have  already 
attempted  to  describe  to  you.  I have  seen  but 
one  object  of  natural  curiosity  to  compare  with  it, 
and  that  is  The  Natural  Tunnel,*  in  Scott 
county.  It  is  a vaulted  passage-way  of  two 
hundred  yards,  through  a mountainous  ridge  some 
five  or  six  hundred  feet  high.  The  ridge  lies  like  a 
connecting  mound  between  two  parallel  hills,  of 
about  the  same  elevation  as  itself;  and  a brook, 
that  winds  through  the  wooded  gorge  between 
these  hills,  appears  to  have  worn  its  way  through 
the  limestone  rib  that  binds  the  two  together.  The 
cavernous  passage  is  nearly  in  the  form  of  an  S. 
The  entrance,  at  the  upper  side,  is  through  a 
tangled  swamp ; where,  in  following  down  the 
stream,  you  come  in  front  of  a rude  arch,  whose 
great  height,  from  the  irregular  face  of  the  cliff 
being  covered  with  vines  and  bushes,  it  is  difficult 
to  estimate,  until  you  attempt  to  throw  a stone  to 

* At  the  time  of  visiting  this  remarkable  natural  curiosity,  the 
writer  was  not  aware  that  any  particular  description  had  yet  been 
given  of  it.  He  has  since  had  pointed  out  to  him  an  article  in  the 
American  Journal  of  Geology,  by  Lieutenant  Colonel  Long,  of  the 
United  States  Engineers,  which  gives  a scientific  account  of  it, 
and  from  which  he  has  borrowed  the  term  Tunnel,  in  preference  to 
adopting  that  of  “ Natural  Bridge/’  by  which  it  is  known  in  the 
neighbourhood.  The  cavern  in  Scott  county  bears  as  close  a 
resemblance  to  a tunnel,  as  does  the  celebrated  Natural  Bridge  in 
Rockbridge  county  to  the  structure  from  which  it  takes  its  name.. 
— See  note. 


208 


CAVERNOUS  PASSAGE, 


the  top  of  the  vault. , The  ceiling  drops  a few 
yards  from  the  entrance,  till,  at  the  point  where, 
from  the  peculiar  shape  of  the  cavern,  the  shadows 
from  either  end  meet  in  the  midst,  it  is  not  more 
than  twenty  feet  high.  The  vault  then  suddenly 
rises,  and  becomes  loftier  and  more  perfect  in  form 
as  you  emerge  from  the  lower  end.  Finally,  it 
flares  upward,  so  that  the  edges  of  the  arch  lose 
themselves  in  the  projecting  face  of  the  cliff,  which 
here  rises  from  a gravelly  soil  to  the  height  of  four 
hundred  feet ; smooth  as  if  chiselled  by  an  artist, 
and  naked  as  death. 

At  this  point,  the  sides  of  the  gorge  are  of  per- 
pendicular rock,  and  for  sixty  or  eighty  yards, 
from  the  outlet  of  the  tunnel,  they  slope  away  so 
gradually  from  its  mouth  as  to  describe  a perfect 
semicircular  wall,  having  the  cavernous  opening  at 
the  extreme  end  of  the  arc.  On  the  left  this  mural 
precipice  curves  off  to  your  rear,  and  sloping  in- 
wardly, impends  at  last  immediately  above  your 
head.  On  the  right  the  wall  becomes  suddenly 
broken,  while  a beetling  crag  shoots  abruptly  from 
the  ruin  to  the  height  of  three  hundred  feet  above 
the  stream  that  washes  its  base.  The  embouchure 
of  the  tunnel  is  immediately  in  front.  Behind, 
the  narrow  dell  is  bounded  by  broken  steeps  hung 
with  birch  and  cedar,  and  shaded  with  every  tint 
of  green,  from  the  deep  verdure  of  the  hemlock  to 
the  paler  foliage  of  the  paw-paw  and  fringe- tree.* 


* Chionanthus  Virginica. 


FEARFUL  CHASM. 


209 


A more  lovely  and  impressive  spot  the  light  of  day 
never  shone  into. 

The  sun  was  in  the  centre  of  the  heavens  as  I 
stood  beneath  that  stupendous  arch,  watching  the 
swallows,  wheeling  around  the  airy  vault  above 
me,  and  yet  more  than  half  the  glen  was  in  deep 
shadow.  I had  been  told,  whether  jestingly  or  not, 
that  the  place  was  a favourite  retreat  for  bears  and 
panthers  ; and  while  following  down  the  brook  a 
few  yards,  I was  somewhat  startled,  upon  casting 
a glance  into,  a recess  in  the  rocky  bank  above  me, 
to  meet  a pair  of  bright  eyes  glaring  from  the 
bushes  which  sheltered  the  nook.  But  the  sudden 
movement  of  drawing  a pistol  frightened  the  wild 
animal  from  its  covert,  and  it  proved  to  be  only  an 
opossum,  that  glided  along  the  trunk  of  a fallen  tree 
and  disappeared  in  the  thickets  above.  I paused 
again  and  again,  in  retracing  my  steps  through  the 
sinuous  vault,  to  admire  its  gloomy  grandeur ; and 
then  mounted  my  horse,  which  was  tethered  in  the 
swamp  at  its  entrance. 

My  road  led  immediately  over  the  tunnel ; but 
the  thick  forest  on  either  side  precluded  a view 
from  the  top  of  the  precipice,  unless  by  approach- 
ing its  edge.  This  it  was  necessary  to  do  on  foot. 
The  glen  thus  viewed  presents  the  appearance  of 
a mere  fissure  in  the  mountain  side  ; but  the  chasm 
is  so  sudden  and  deep  that  the  first  glance  is  start- 
ling when  your  foot  presses  the  edge  ; and  your 
eye  swims  when  it  would  pierce  the  shadowy 
gorge  below.  The  tall  sapling  growth  of  buckeye 
and  linden  that  spring  within  the  dell,  and  lift 


210 


THRILLING  INCIDENT. 


their  slender  items  and  sickly-coloured  leaves  so 
aspiringly,  yet.  faintingly,  towards  the  light,  sink 
into  mere  shrubs  when  viewed  from  this  eminence; 
while  the  pines  and  oaks  around  you,  which  had 
appeared  equally  insignificant  when  viewed  from 
below,  seem  now  almost  to  interlace  their  branches 
over  the  gulf.  A thrilling  incident  is  said  to  have 
occurred  here  a few  years  since.  There  is  a cavern- 
ous recess  about  midway  in  the  face  of  the  preci- 
pice, whose  height,  you  will  recollect,  is  estimated 
at  more  than  three  hundred  feet ; and  some  bold 
adventurer  determined  to  be  let  down  to  explore 
this  fissure.  He  easily  found  some  of  his  acquaint- 
ance who  consented  to  assist  in  the  experiment ; 
and  standing  on  the  edge  of  the  chasm,  they  began 
to  lower  him  down  by  a rope  attached  to  his  body. 

After  descending  some  forty  or  fifty  feet,  our  ad- 
venturer discovered  that  the  side  of  the  precipice 
shelved  so  much  inwardly  that  it  was  impossible 
for  him  to  touch  the  wall,  even  at  so  short  a distance 
from  the  top.  It  was  necessary  then  to  provide 
some  pointed  instrument  by  which  he  could  hold  on 
to  the  face  of  the  cliff  as  he  descended.  He  was 
accordingly  pulled  up  once  more,  and  then,  after 
providing  himself  with  a “ gig,”  or  long  fish-spear, 
much  used  in  the ‘adjacent  rivers,  he  started  anew 
upon  his  perilous  voyage.  The  gig  appeared  to 
answer  its  purpose  extremely  well,  though  the  task 
of  thrusting  it  from  time  to  time  in  the  crevices  of 
the  rock,  as  the  cord  was  gradually  slackened  from 
above,  was  both  tiresome  and  exhausting.  The 
point  proposed  was  just  attained,  and  the  patient 


A BOLD  CRAGSMAN. 


211 


adventurer  was  about  to  reap  the  reward  of  his  toil, 
and  plant  his  foot  in  the  fissure,  when  his  compa- 
nions shouted  from  above  that  their  coil  of  rope  had 
run  out. 

It  was  too  provoking  to  be  thus  a second  time 
disappointed,  when  his  object  seemed  almost  within 
his  grasp,  and  but  a few  more  yards  of  cord  would 
have  enabled  him  to  complete  his  purpose.  He 
had  given  too  much  trouble,  and  encountered  too 
much  peril,  now  to  abandon  his  design  completely. 
Thus  reasoned  the  bold  cragsman,  as,  clinging  like 
a bat  to  the  wall,  he  hung  midway  between  heaven 
and  earth ; and  determining  not  to  give  up  his  point, 
he  shouted  to  his  comrades  to  splice  a grape-vine  to 
the  end  of  the  rope  ! The  substitute  was  easily 
procured,  and  being  quickly  attached,  more  line  was 
at  once  payed  out  from  above.  He  had  now  de- 
scended so  far  that  the  shelving  precipice  projected 
far  over  his  head,  almost  like  the  flat  ceiling  of  a 
chamber;  but  still  his  fishing-spear  enabled  him  to 
keep  close  to  the  face  of  the  rock,  and  practice  now 
taught  him  to  handle  it  with  dexterity  and  confi- 
dence. He  is  at  last  opposite  to  the  cavernous 
opening  he  would  explore ; and  without  waiting  to 
measure  its  depth,  he  balances  himself  against  a 
jutting  point  of  rock  with  one  hand,  while  the  other 
strikes  his  javelin  at  a crevice  in  the  sides  of  the 
deep  recess  before  him.  The  spear  falls  short;  the 
adventurer  is  at  once  detached  from  the  face  of  the 
cliff  to  which  he  had  been  so  carefully  adhering ; 
and  the  great  angle  at  which  the  rope  that  sustains 
him  has  been  now  drawn,  sends  him  swinging  like 


212 


HAIR-BREADTH  ESCAPE. 


a pendulum  over  the  frightful  gulf.  The  grape- 
vine— so  strong  and  secure  as  long  as  there  is  a 
perpendicular  pull  upon  it — now  cracks  and  splits 
as  if  its  fibres  could  not  bear  the  strain ; while  the 
weight  at  the  end  of  it  spins  round  in  the  air,  and 
the  frayed  bark  falls  in  strips  upon  the  alarmed 
cragsman,  as  he  watches  it  grate  off  upon  the  edge 
of  the  precipice  above  him.  He  maintains  his  self- 
possession,  however,  while  his  companions  pull 
carefully  and  steadily  upon  the  fragile  cable.  He 
soon  sees  the  knot  at  which  the  rope  is  tied  to  it  in 
their  hands,  and  a shout  of  triumph  hails  his  ap- 
proach to  the  top,  where  he  is  at  last  safely  landed ; 
perfectly  content,  one  may  conceive,  to  forego  all 
the  pleasure  that  might  have  arisen  from  a more 
satisfactory  examination  of  the  recess,  from  which 
he  had  made  so  expeditious  and  involuntary  an  exit. 

The  hairbreadth  escape  of  this  cool  climber  of 
crags  reminds  me  of  one  equally  thrilling  that  I re- 
ceived from  the  lips  of  the  hero  of  it,  soon  after  en- 

rfl  1 

tering  these  mountains.  But  as  I am  now  stopping 
at  this  place  to  recruit  from  a recent  indisposition, 
I must  reserve  the  incident  to  employ  my  leisure 
in  another  letter. 


SALTPETRE  CAVE. 


213 


LETTER  XLIII. 

Saltpetre  Cave — Subterranean  Incident — Sickness — Tragical 
Story. 

Chilhowee  Springs,  May  8,  1834. 

I had  heard  of  a remarkable  saltpetre  cave,  within 
a few  miles  of  the  inn  where  I was  staying,  at 
Cumberland  Gap,  and  was  anxious  to  explore  it. 
There  was  an  individual  in  the  neighbourhood  who 
was  said  to  have  worked  in  the  cavern,  in  manufac- 
turing saltpetre,  at  a time  when  there  was  a great 
demand  for  gunpowder,  during  the  last  war.  This 
man  I attempted  to  procure  as  a guide ; but  though 
he  acted  as  a pioneer  for  me  to  several  wild  scenes, 
nothing  could  persuade  him  to  take  me  to  this.  He 
at  length,  with  some  emotion,  assigned  his  reasons ; 
which  will  better  appear  after  I have  given  you  the 
features  of  the  place,  as  they  were  described  to  me. 
The  opening  of  the  cavern  is  in  West  Virginia,  on 
the  side  of  the  Cumberland  Mountains ; but  one  of 
its  branches  has  been  traced  far  into  the  adjacent 
State  of  Kentucky,  and  there  are  said  to  be  several 
chambers  of  it  in  Tennessee.  I have  myself,  in- 
deed, in  exploring  one  of  its  supposed  passages, 
that  opened  two  miles  from  the  main  embouchure, 
passed  the  dividing  line  of  two  of  these  States.  The 

VOX,.  II.— T 


214 


SALTPETRE  CAVE. 


most  direct  of  its  branches  has,  in  former  years, 
been  measured  with  a chain,  to  the  extent  of  seven 
miles.*  The  form  of  the  cavern  is  as  remarkable 
as  its  size  : as,  just  far  enough  within  the  entrance 
to  shroud  it  in  darkness,  there  is  a precipice  of  more 
than  two  hundred  feet  (two  hundred  and  sixty-two 
is  said  to  be  the  measured  depth);  and  the  only 
mode  of  advancing  farther  into  the  cave  is  by  de- 
scending here,  when  you  come  to  a flat  surface, 
whereon  your  farther  progress  is  unimpeded.  The 
sides  of  the  precipice  are  marked  here  and  there 
by  ledges  of  rock,  and  the  persons  employed  in 
manufacturing  saltpetre  had,  with  considerable  in- 
genuity, adjusted  a chain  of  ladders  from  one  ledge 
to  another,  so  as  to  form,  apparently,  a continuous 
staircase  down  the  perpendicular  side  of  the  cliff*. 

At  the  close  of  the  war,  twenty  years  ago,  the 
cave  became  deserted.  The  population  then  was 
not  dense  around,  and  there  being  but  little  travel 
along  the  nearest  highway,,  the  place  was  seldom 
mentioned,  and  never  resorted  to.  It  chanced  one 
day,  about  six  years  since,  that  the  man  whom  I 
wished  now  to  guide  me  thither  passed  the  mouth 
of  the  cavern,  with  a companion,  in  hunting.  Sit- 
ting down  near  it,  to  refesh  themselves,  they  began 
to  recall  their  recollection  of  those  who  had  worked 
in  the  cave  in  by-gone  years  ; and  the  period  seem- 
ed so  recent,  that  they  thought  it  Avorth  while  to 
look  whether  none  of  their  implements,  then  used, 
were  yet  to  be  found  in  the  pit ; determining  that 

* This,  as  the  reader  is  probably  aware,  is  nothing  to  the  as  yet 
unknown  limits  of  the  celebrated  “ Mammoth  cave”  of  Kentucky. 


SUBTERRANEAN  INCIDENT. 


215 


any  of  the  tools  that  might  be  left,  after  so  long  an 
interval,  would  be  a fair  prize  for  themselves. 

Entering  the  cavern,  they  first,  by  the  light  of  a 
pine  torch,  carefully  examined  the  wooden  ladders 
which  had  been  now  for  sixteen  years  exposed  to 
the  damps  of  the  place.  They  had  been  made  of 
cedar,  and  still  appeared  sound.  The  cautious 
hunters  agreed  that  all  was  right,  and  both  descend- 
ed. They  reached  the  bottom  in  safety,  and,  as 
expected,  they  found  several  neglected  tools  still 
remaining  there;  and  selecting  a pickaxe  and  a 
spade,  they  commenced  their  ascent  upon  the  lad- 
ders. The  first  flight  was  soon  accomplished ; but 
their  steps  became  slower  as  they  got  farther  from 
the  bottom,  and  as  the  implements  which  they  car- 
ried could  not  be  balanced  upon  the  shoulders,  each 
had  but  one  hand  upon  the  ladder,  and  of  course,  as 
that  became  tired,  each  was  compelled  to  move 
more  and  more  carefully.  Patience  and  steadiness, 
however,  at  last  brought  them  near  the  summit. 
In  fact,  the  upper  rung  of  the  ladder  was  in  view, 
when  the  foremost  man  taking  hold  of  one  more 
decayed  than  the  rest,  it  broke  in  his  grasp,  and  he 
fell  backward  with  his  wThole  weight  upon  the  chest 
of  his  companion ; the  other  reeled  and  staggered 
with  the  blow,  but  still  kept  his  one-handed  hold 
upon  the  ladder.  The  iron  tools  went  clanging  to 
the  bottom.  There  was  a.  moment  of  intense  anxiety 
whether  he  could  sustain  his  comrade ; there  was 
another  of  thrilling  doubt  whether  his  comrade 
could  regain  the  ladder  ; and  both  were  included  in 
one  mortal  agony  of  fear  and  horror.  But  the  falling 


216  SICKNESS. 

man  clutched  the  ladder  instantly,  and  laying  a 
frantic  grip,  with  both  hands,  upon  the  sides,  they 
gained  the  top,  at  last,  together.  “ Stranger,”  con- 
cluded the  man,  while  his  voice  faltered  at  the  end 
of  the  tale,  “ we  knelt  to  God  at  the  mouth  of  that 
cave,  and  swore  never  to  enter  it  more.” 

Some  ten  or  twelve  miles  from  the  Tunnel,  I 
stopped  to  dine  with  a cottager,  whose  establish- 
ment and  reception  were  both  marked  by  that  union 
of  poverty  and  politeness  which  characterizes  the 
lower  classes  of  western  Virginians.  He  had  no- 
thing, he  said,  for  me  to  eat,  but  I was  welcome  to 
what  he  had,  if  I could  dine  in  a room  with  half-a- 
dozen  sick  children. 

“ Bacon  and  greens,”  as  usual,  was  the  dinner; 
and  my  host  poured  me  out  a good  cup  of  coifee, 
while  his  wife  was  stilling  the  cries  of  an  infant  in 
her  arms,  and  ministering  to  the  wants  of  several 
little  sufferers,  on  a trundle-bed,  in  one  corner  of 
the  apartment.  The  good  man  told  me  that  this 
was  the  only  illness  with  which  his  household  had 
ever  been  visited ; “ and  as  these  are  the  only  rela- 
tions I have”  he  added,  “ I feel  some  concern  to 
get  them  all  upon  their  feet  again ; for  I want  to 
raise  the  whole  of  them.” 

In  further  conversation  I found  that  the  illness 
Avith  which  this  family  was  afflicted  was  the  scarlet 
fever,  Avhich,  with  the  measles  and  other  similar 
complaints,  seems  to  make  up  the  brief  list  of 
diseases  that  find  their  way  into  this  healthy  re- 
gion. The  measles  and  scarlet  fever  are  now  both 
prevailing  to  a great  extent,  and  I am  just  recover- 


TRAGICAL  STORY. 


217 


ing  from  a light  attack  of  the  latter,  incurred,  proba- 
bly, by  my  visit  tG  the  cottager.  I kept  the  saddle 
for  a day  or  two,  in  hopes  of  the  great  panacea, 
exercise,  overcoming  even  so  virulent  a complaint 
as  this  ; but  after  holding  out  with  difficulty  until  I 
reached  Abingdon,  I was  glad  to  have  recourse  to 
lancet  and  powders,  under  the  auspices  of  a physi- 
cian ; and  I was  so  immured,  during  the  few  days 
which  I passed  at  Abingdon,  that  the  bustling  little 
court-town  supplied  me  with  nothing  of  particular 
interest  to  add  to  this  letter ; nor  could  I,  perhaps, 
conclude  it  better  than  with  the  simple  but  thrilling 
relation  of  the  cottager,  whose  isolated  condition 
was  SO'  coolly  alluded  to  by  himself,  in  telling  me 
of  the  illness  of  his  children.  The  father  of  my 
host,  who  was  a middle-aged  man,  had  been  among 
the  early  settlers  of  this  mountain  region ; and  the 
fact  of  his  being  now  without  any  blood  relations, 
except  those  collected  around  his  own  hearth,  arose 
from  all  his  kindred  having  perished  in  different 
border  frays,  many  years  since.  His  father’s  family 
had  been  cut  off  at  a blow,  while  he  was  yet  a child  ; 
and  the  story  of  their  fate  was  to  this  effect : — 

It  was  the  season  for  gathering  peaches,  and  dry- 
ing them  for  winter  use  : and  some  of  the  early 
dwellers  in  these  fertile  valleys  had  already  spread 
the  sliced  fruit  on  the  sheds  of  their  outhouses,  to  be 
acted  upon  by  the  declining  but  still  ardent  sun  of 
summer.  A clump  of  trees,  richly  laden  with  peaches, 
stood  upon  a knoll  near  the  edge  of  the  forest,  and 
within  a few  hundred  yards  of  the  cabin  of  a 
settler.  The  owner  of  the  cabin  wras  away  from 

t 2 


218 


TRAGICAL  STORY. 


home,  and  his  eldest  son  had  been  sent  over  the 
hills  upon  some  distant  errand ; while  the  mother 
of  the  family,  with  another  son  and  a daughter, 
were  left  to  the  care  of  an  uncle  of  the  children. 
They  were  all,  one  quiet  August  evening,  collected 
around  the  hillock  already  mentioned ; gome  were 
employed  in  stripping  the  trees  of  their  prolific  bur- 
then, and  some  in  filling  their  baskets  with  the 
balmy  fruit,  as  it  lay  scattered  upon  the  ground. 
The  little  girl  had  partly  climbed  a tree,  and  was 
engaged  in  handing  the  peaches  within  reach  to  her 
mother;  the  boy  stood  thrashing  the  drooping 
boughs  by  the  side  of  his  parent ; but  the  uncle  was 
separated  from  the  group,  while  filling  his  basket 
from  the  ground  on  the  other  side  of  the  knoll.  As 
he  stooped  to  pick  up  the  fruit,  a shot,  a scream, 
and  a bullet  whistled  over  his  head,  told  him,  in  a 
moment,  that  the  dreaded  savages  were  upon  them. 
He  looked,  and  the  girl  had  tumbled  from  the  tree, 
like  a bird  from  a bough,  upon  the  bosom  of  her 
mother.  The  sight  of  his  agonized  sister  struck 
horror  to  the  heart  of  the  pioneer;  but  his  experi- 
ence of  such  scenes  suggested  that,  all  unarmed  as 
he  was,  he  must  abandon  her  to  her  fate,  and  seek 
revenge  hereafter,  or  be  butchered,  in  vain  resist- 
ance, upon  the  spot.  Another  scream  from  the 
phrensied  mother,  and  he  saw  the  hatchet  of  an  In- 
dian buried  in  the  brain  of  the  terrified  boy,  w^ho 
clung  to  her  for.  protection,  as  the  demoniac  figure 
leaped,  with  uplifted  arm,  from  a neighbouring 
thicket.  Had  he  looked  again,  he  might  have  seen 
the  red  hand  of  a savage  twined  in  the  locks  of  his 


TRAGICAL  STORY. 


219 


unhappy  sister ; but  horror  had  shut  his  heart  upon 
her.  He  looked  not,  he  waited  not,  till,  shriek  on 
shriek,  her  cries  rang  in  his  ears,  each  more  pier- 
cing than  the  last.  He  knew  that  the  hillock,  on 
whose  side  he  was  standing,  had  hitherto  screened 
his  form  from  the  keen  eyes  of  the  Indians ; that 
his  position  gave  him  a chance  of  escape, — a start 
in  the  death-race ; and  he  seized  it  with  the  eager- 
ness of  desperation.  Fear  lent  him  wings,  and  he 
had  gained  the  cover  of  the  wood  before  the  savages 
had  finished  binding  their  captive,  and  scalping  the 
children  before  the  eyes  of  their  mother : but  her 
horrid  cry  echoed  upon  his  brain  like  a death-peal, 
long  afterward ; and  when,  upon  returning  with  his 
neighbours  to  the  fatal  scene  of  the  catastrophe,  her 
body  could  not  be  found  beside  those  of  her  chil- 
dren, and  her  doom,  as  a prisoner,  had  been  con- 
firmed by  other  evidence,  he  disappeared  from  the 
country, /and,  like  the  unhappy  woman  herself,  was 
never  heard  of  more.  The  father  of  the  family 
learned,  at  a distance,  of  the  desolation  which  had 
fallen  upon  his  household,  and  wandering  to  some 
remote  spot  on  the  border,  he  never  returned  to  his 
ruined  home  ; while  the  last  of  the  family,  growing 
up  to  man’s  estate,  now  enjoyed  the  little  patrimony 
of  which  I found  him  in  possession,  and  of  which 
these  disastrous  events  had  made  him  the  only  heir. 


220 


A VIRGINIA  JULEP. 


>.  ' r 


' • • ■ .»  / 

LETTER  XLIV. 


A Virginia  Julep— Picturesque  descent  to  the  Kenawha — Indian 
Burial-ground— The  Last  Errand  of  the  Bald  Eagle. 

Parisburg,  Giles  Co.,  West  Virginia,  May  13,  1834. 

“ You  look  faintish,  sir,”  quoth  mine  host,  usher- 
ing me  into  the  bar-room,  at  the  first  inn  where  I 
stopped,  after  again  finding  myself  well  enough  to 
resume  my  journey.  “ A julep,  sir,  by  all  means; 
let  me  recommend  a julep.  The  table  will  not  be 
spread  in  some  time  yet,  and  we  Virginians  think 
that  there  is  nothing  between  a long  ride  and  a late 
breakfast  like  a julep.”  Suiting  the  action  to  the 
word,  the  landlord  poured  a deep  claret-coloured 
beverage  from  a pitcher  that  stood  near,  and  handed 
me  the  renovating  cup.  But  think  not  that  the  mild 
and  refreshing  draught  which  I placed  to  my  lips 
bore  any  resemblance  to  the  acrid  and  scorching 
mixture  drunk  under  the  same  name  on  board  of 
steam-boats  and  in  taverns  at  the  north.  The  va- 
rious liquors  that  combine  in  a Virginia  julep  are 
mixed  in  very  small  quantities,  and  the  flavour  of 
each  is  made  to  blend  so  perfectly  with  the  fragrant 
herb  which  imparts  its  aroma  to  all,  that  the  mel- 
low and  balmy  cordial  resembles  more  a cup  of  old 
metheglin  than  a recent  compound.  The  use  of 


MY  COMPANION. 


221 


this  morning  draught  is  deduced  from  that  period 
when  a gentleman  of  Queen  Elizabeth’s  time  stirred 
his  tankard  with  a sprig  of  rosemary;  and  the  cus- 
tom of  serving  it  round  to  the  chambers  of  guests 
before  breakfast  is,  I am  told,  still  religiously  ob- 
served by  some  of  the  old  planters  of  Virginia. 
Like  “ the  stirrup-cup”  which  is  here  handed  you 
at  the  door  of  every  cabaret  when  about  to  mount, 
and  the  “ spiced  posset”  that  is  sometimes  offered 
by  mine  host  when  about  to  retire  for  the  night,  it 
must  be  viewed  as  a relic  of  ancient  manners,  and 
not  to  be  thought  to  imply  the  existence  of  dissi- 
pated habits  ; for  so  far  as  my  own  observation  has 
extended,  there  is  not  the  least  ground  for  such  a 
stain  attaching  to  the  hearty  hospitality  of  the  West 
Virginians  and  Kentuckians. 

I spent  a night  at  the  flourishing  town  of  Evans- 
ham  in  Wythe  county,  on  my  way  from  the  Chil- 
howee  Springs  hither ; aud  was  wTell  accommo- 
dated at  a spacious  inn  which  had  a broad  piazza 
extending  along  the  whole  front,  with  a pretty  plot 
of  shrubbery  screening  it  from  the  street.  The 
place  wras  filled  with  country  wagons  and  mounted 
yeomanry,  which,  with  the  .display  of  goods  in  the 
various  shops  along  the  main  street,  gave  it  a busy 
and  thriving  appearance.  I fell  in  here  with  a 
young  Carolinian,  who  had  travelled  thus  far  across 
the  country  on  his  way  to  the  White  Sulphur 
Springs ; and  being  desirous  of  visiting  that  cele- 
brated watering  place,  I have  consented  to  deviate 
so  far  from  my  direct  route  to  Washington  that  we 
may  travel  together.  My  companion  has  brought 


222 


DANGEROUS  ROAD. 


a tilbury  with  him  from  the  low  country,  which  is 
very  much  out  of  place  in  this  mountain  region, 
and  seems  to  be  regarded  with  great  curiosity  by 
people  who  travel  altogether  on  horseback.  The 
roads  are  so  bad,  too,  that  my  fellow-traveller  is 
continually  envying  me  my  independent  mode  of 
travelling,  as  I pick  my  path  where  a wheel  car- 
riage cannot  get  along,  or  move  from  the  highway 
at  pleasure  to  enjoy  the  beautiful  views  which  con- 
tinually open  upon  us.  Nothing  can  be  more 
lovely,  grand,  and  peculiar  than  some  of  these.  In 
one  place,  where  we  struck  the  Kenawha  river,  we 
had  consumed  some  time  in  gaining  the  summit  of 
a pine  ridge  by  numerous  winding  ascents,  which 
carried  us  so  gradually  from  one  acclivity  to 
another  till  we  had  gained  the  topmost  height,  that 
it  was  only  by  catching  through  the  trees  an  oc- 
casional glimpse  of  a cultivated  valley  behind  that 
we  could  at  all  realize  the  great  elevation  to  which 
we  were  attaining. 

But  even  these  glimpses  were  at  last  lost  in  a 
dark  pine  forest  which  thickened  around  us,  and, 
closing  the  prospect  before  as  well  as  behind, 
completely  shut  from  view  the  sheer  descent  of  the 
ridge  on  the  opposite  side,  until  we  wrere  on  the 
very  edge  of  the  declivity.  Here  the  road  in 
descending  made  an  abrupt  turn,  and  being  cut  out 
of  the  precipitous  hill-side,  presented  a most  pecu- 
liar appearance  when  afterward  viewed  from  below. 
This  abrupt  turn,  however,  was  not  perceptible 
from  the  top,  until  we  had  actually  gained  it ; and 
the  effect  produced  by  looking  a few  yards  in  ad- 


LONELY  RESTING-PLACE. 


223 


vance  was  that  of  glancing  over  a sheer  precipice, 
to  the  edge  of  which  you  were  apparently  guiding 
yo-ur  horse  with  a fated  hand ; and  you  might  even 
begin  to  calculate  how  far  the  stunted  evergreens 
that  shot  out  from  the  bank  side,  or  the  vine- 
webbed  boughs  which  seemed  netted  so  closely 
together  in  the  moist  valley  below,  would  soften 
your  sudden  descent.  The  valley  itself  was  butA 
a few  acres  in  extent,  with  a small  cleared  spot 
in  the  centre  ; and  so  completely  was  it  hedged 
in  by  the  spurs  of  several  mountain  ridges  which 
here  interlaced,  that  the  sun,  when  we  first  view- 
ed it  from  above,  appeared  hardly  to  f&netrate  its 
bosom/ 

Leading  our  horses  down  the  declivity,  we 
crossed  a brook  at  its  base,  and  emerging  from 
a grove  of  cedars,  found  ourselves  upon  the  cleared 
spot  w’e  had  observed  from  above.  It  proved  to 
be  an  Indian  burial-ground.  A generation  had 
probably  passed  away#  since  it  was  abandoned  by 
its  original  possessors ; but  the  outlines  of  a few 
scattered  graves  were  still  perceptible  around  an 
ancient  thorn-tree ; and  the  close  turf  that  spread 
its  verdure  about  the  place  was  skirted  here  and 
there  with  a hawbush,  or  cluster  of  wild  roses, 
growing  on  the  edge  of  the  forest  that  girdled  the 
spot.  A lonelier  and  a lovelier  resting-place,  or 
one  more  characteristic  of  the  singular  people  who 
had  chosen  it  for  their  slumbering  dead,  I have 
never  beheld.  A narrow  grove  was  all  that  here 
intervened  between  us  and  the  Kenawha,  which,  as 
it  came  roaring  around  the  shoulder  of  a mountain, 


224 


INDIAN  VENGEANCE. 


received,  within  a hundred  yards,  a tributary  as  large 
as  itself. 

I loitered  behind  my  companion*  to  look  upon 
the  foaming  river, — the  only  thing  of  life  in  a spot 
so  still, — and  the  fearful  tales  of  childhood  rose 
fresh  to  memory  as  I gazed  upon  the  Kenawha, 
and  found  myself  insensibly  humming  a long-for- 
gotten air  that  takes  its  name  from  its  waters.  It 
was  the  march  that  had  rung  through  these  glens 
when  Lord  Dunmore  carried  the  flower  of  Viren- 

o 

nia  to  the  border,  to  check  the  horrors  of  Indian 
vengeance.*  A vengeance  which,  it  must  be  ad- 
mitted— n^v  that  the  intervention  of  many  years 
allows  us  to  form  a more  impartial  judgment  upon 

• 

* One  division  of  this  force,  a thousand  strong,  was  vanquished 
in  open  field  by  the  united  Delawares  and  Shawanees.  The  action, 
which  lasted  from  dawn  to  sunset,  was  fought  on  the  narrow  point 
of  land  formed  by  the  junction  of  the  Ohio  and  Kenawha.  Logan, 
Cornstalk,  Elenipseco,  and  many  other  celebrated  chiefs  were  pre- 
sent, and  were  often  heard  loudly  encouraging  their  warriors.  Corn- 
stalk, sachem  of  the  Shawanees,  and ’leader  of  northern  confederacy 
(afterward  so  cruelly  butchered  by  the  whites — see  Note  M),  was 
particularly  conspicuous.  As  the  repeated  charges  of  the  whites 
became  more  warm  and  determined,  the  Indian  line  began  to 
waver,  and  several  were  seen  to  give  way.  The  heroic  Shawanee 
was  instantly  upon  the  spot,  and  his  pealing  cry,  “ Be  strong— be 
strong!”  was  heard  distinctly  above  the  din  of  the  conflict.  Like 
Dundee,  he  inflicted  the  punishment  of  cowardice  upon  the  first 
recreant  with  his  own  hand.  He  buried  his  hatchet  in  the  head  of 
one  of  his  warriors,  and  indignantly  shaming  the  rest,  completely 
restored  the  battle.  It  was  in  the  treaty  that  followed  this  victory 
that  the  Mingoe  chieftain  Logan,  while  refusing  to  be  included  in 
it,  delivered  the  celebrated  speech  which  Mr.  Jefferson  has  pre- 
served in  his  Notes  on  Virginia,  for  the  admiration  of  the  world. — 
cc  Jefferson's  Notes;”  11  Border  Wars  “ M'  Citing's  Sketches, 
(fc. 


THE  BALD  EAGLE. 


225 


the  actors  in  those  scenes — was  provoked  by  the 
most  intolerable  wrongs.  Some  of  these — singu- 
larly aggravated  in  character  by  attending  circum- 
stances— the  pen  of  genius  has  long  since  rescued 
from  oblivion ; and  the  cold-blood  butchery  of  the 
noble  Mingoe’s  family  has  become  the  trite  theme 
of  the  school-boy’s  declamation.  But  there  were 
other  provocations  on  the  part  of  the  whites  which 
were  more  calculated  to  exasperate  the  Indians  to 
implacable  hostility,  than  even  the  black  deed  of 
Colonel  Cresap.  Such,  in  fact,  was  the  atrocious 
murder  of  “The  Bald  Eagle,”  a Delaware  chief- 
tain, whose  unmerited  and  shocking  fate  provoked 
his  warlike  nation  to  take  a part  in  the  Indian 
Rising  which  preceded  the  treaty  with  the  allied 
tribes  in  1763.  The  story  of  this  friendly  and 
much-injured  sagamore  has  been  briefly  told  by 
more  than  one  chronicler ; but  as  I am  now  com- 
fortably seated  in  “ the  best  inn’s  best  room”  that 
the  village  of  Parisburg  affords,  I know  not  how  I 
can  more  agreeably  while  away  the  evening  than 
in  finishing  this  letter  by  recalling  it  here. 

The  Last  Errand  of  the  Bald  Eagle . 

The  tribe  of  “The  Bald 'Eagle”  had  been  long 
at  peace  with  the  whites.  The  aged  sagamore  had 
acquired  their  language,  and  become  familiar  with 
their  manners.  He  was  a frequent  visiter  at  the 
fort  erected  at  the  mouth  of  the  Kenawha ; and  the 
soldiers’  children  would  sit  upon  the  blanket  of  the 
kind  old  Indian,  while  he  fitted  the  arrows  of  reed 
to  their  mimic  bows  for  them,  and  beguiled  the 

VOL.  II. — u 


226 


THE  BALD  EAGLE. 


sunny  hours  with  some  ancient  legend  of  his  peo- 
ple ; traditions  of  their  fabulous  battles  with  the  all- 
devouring  Gitche-pezheke,*  that  would  make  young 
eyes  dilate  with  wonder ; and  fearful  tales  of  mur- 
dered chieftains,  who,  when  the  baishkwa  (night- 
hawk)  flitted  through  the  wood,  and  the  bright  foot- 
prints gleamed  along  The  Path  of  Ghosts, t would 
stalk  round  the  lodges  of  their  kindred,  and  whisper 
the  story  of  their  fate  to  the  tardy  avengers  of  blood 
within.  Often,  at  noontide,  or  when  the  ruddy 
hues  of  sunset  were  softened  on  the  bosom  of  the 
broad  Ohio,  his  bark-canoe  would  be  seen  skim- 
ming the  river,  towards  the  fort,  while  the  urchins 
ran  down  to  meet  the  harmless  old  man,  and  sup- 
plied him  with  sweetmeats  and  tobacco,  in  return 
for  the  trifling  presents  he  would  bring  them  from 
his  forest  home — baskets  of  the  flexile  and  delicate- 
hued  birch,  pouches  of  the  variegated  and  platted 
porcupine  quills,  and  fillets  woven  by  the  daughters 
of  the  chief,  from  the  flaming  feathers  of  the  mo- 
nin ggwuna.|  Twilight  would  come,  and  the  whip- 
poorwill commence  his  evening  call  from  the  hill- 
side, while  the  garrulous  ancient  still  lingered  with 
his  boyish  playmates  ; but  night  again  would  find 
his  frail  shallop  drifting  down  the  stream,  while, 
ever  and  anon,  the  chief  would  pause  as  he  plied 
his  paddle,  to  return  the  salute  of  some  friendly 
pioneer,  who,  in  the  existing  peace  upon  the  border, 
had  ventured  to  place  his  cabin  on  the  shore. 

* The  fossil  mammoth  is  thus  named  by  the  Indians. 

t This  is  the  name  of  the  Milky  Way  among  our  northern  tribes. 

t The  high-hold  or  golden-winged  woodpecker. 


THE  BALD  EAGLE. 


227 


Many  months  had  passed  away,  and  still  with 
each  returning  week  the  children  watched  for  their 
swarthy  visiter  ; and  never  failed  at  last  to  see  his 
paddle  flashing  behind  some  green  promontory,  and 
soon  impelling  his  light  canoe  upon  the  beach  be- 
side them.  But  at  length  the  chieftain  came  no 
more : the  little  gifts  which  they  had  prepared  lost 
their  novelty  ; and  they  longed  in  vain  for  the  old 
Delaware  to  string  their  bows  anew,  or  to  bring 
them  wild  plums  from  the  islands,  and  the  rich 
fruit  of  the  paw-paw  from  over  the  river  : and  still 
The  Bald  Eagle  came  not.  The  white  hunters 
could  tell  nothing  of  him,  and  the  few  settlers  along 
the  stream  declared  that  they  had  last  seen  him 
floating  safely  past  their  cabins,  with  pipe  in  mouth, 
as  usual,  and  wending  his  way  to  the  village  of  his 
tribe  far  down  the  river : but  the  neighbouring  In- 
dians no  longer  brought  them  venison  and  wild 
honey  from  the  wood,  their  otter-traps  had  been 
withdrawn  from  the  cane-brake,  and  the  light  of 
their  torches  was  no  more  seen  upon  the  river, 
guiding  them  in  the  favourite  sport  of  spearing  the 
fish  that  teem  in  its  waters. 

The  garrison  was  not  dismayed  at  the  ominous 
silence ; yet  the  sudden  cessation  of  all  intercourse 
between  themselves  and  the  Indians  threw  a gloom 
over  the  little  community.  There  was  one  among 
their  number  who  could  have  unravelled  the  mys- 
tery ; it  was  one  who,  like  the  murderer  of  Logan’s 
family,  had  forged  at  least  one  link  in  the  monstrous 
chain  of  injury  which  was  at  this  moment  knitting 
the  neighbouring  tribes  together  in  bitter  hostility 


228 


HIS  DEATH. 


to  the  whites — it  was  the  assassin  of  The  Bald 
Eagle.  This  man,  as  it  afterward  appeared,  had 
suffered  from  the  Indians  in  former  years,  and  in 
compliance  with  a vow  of  vengeance  against  the 
whole  race,  he  had  waylaid  the  friendly  Delaware 
on  his  lonely  voyage  down  the  river,  and  murdered 
him  within  a short  distance  of  the  fort.  The  deed 
was  done  in  darkness  and  in  silence.  The  super- 
annuated warrior  could  make  but  feeble  resistance 
against  the  athletic  and  implacable  backwoodsman. 
The  fated  savage  pleaded  vainly  for  a moment,  in 
which  to  sing  his  death-song,  but  the  heart  of  the 
Indian  hater  was  steeled  against  the  appeal,  and  the 
atrocious  violence  was  consummated  with  equal  se- 
crecy and  despatch. 

But  the  blood  of  the  victim  was  yet  to  cry  from 
the  ground. 

The  revengeful  pioneer’had  accomplished  his  first 
purpose  of  taking  the  life  of  an  Indian : he  was  not 
contented,  however,  until  he  had  added  insult  to 
injury,  and  with  ingenious  cruelty  ensured  that  full 
knowledge  of  the  outrage  should  reach  the  friends 
of  the  unhappy  subject  of  it ; and  thus  he  proceeded 
to  the  accomplishment  of  his  iniquitous  purpose  : — 
he  first  scalped  the  hoary  crown  of  the  old  Dela- 
ware ; and,  next  fixing  the  body  in  the  usual  sitting 
posture  in  the  stern  of  his  canoe,  he  carefully  re- 
placed the  pipe  in  his  motith,  and  adjusted  the 
steering-paddle  to  the  hand  of  the  corpse,  which 
soon  stiffened  around  it.  A direction  was  then 
given  to  the  boat  that  bore  this  ghastly  burden,  and 
the  stream  quickly  swept  it  far  beyond  his  view. 


REVENGE. 


229 


The  abruptness  of  the  river’s  bank,  and  the  rapidity 
of  the  current  near  the  shore,  prevented  the  doomed 
bark  from  stopping  in  its  career,  and  hurried  it  on 
the  voyage  for  which  it  was  so  fearfully  freighted. 
The  settlers  on  the  river’s  side  recognised  the  well- 
known  canoe  and  accustomed  form  of  him  that 
steered  it,  and  dreaming  not  of  the  fate  that  had 
overtaken  its  master,  they  saluted  him,  as  usual, 
from  -the  shore ; but,  when  they  hailed,  no  friendly 
whoop  replied  to  the  call ; they  beckoned,  but  the 
grim  boatman  heeded  not;  the  shallop  still  went 
on,  for  the  hand  that  guided  kept  it  steadily  on  its 
way.  The  wild  deer,  drinking  from  the  wave, 
started  at  the  shadow  as  it  glided  before  him  ; the 
raven  snuffed  the  tainted  form,  and  hovered  above 
its  gory  head,  yet  dared  not  to  alight  beside  that 
motionless  and  stern  voyageur.  And  still  that  bark 
kept  on.  But  now  it  has  neared  the  home  of  the 
murdered  sagamore;  and,  like  a steed  that  knows 
the  dwelling  of  its  master,  it  seems  to  be  making 
unerringly  for  that  green  headland  where  the  friends 
of  the  loved  sachem  are  waiting  the  wonted  hour  of 
his  return. 

What  more  is  there  to  add  ?— the  dumb  messen- 
ger fulfilled  his  mission.  The  neighbouring  bands 
at  once  dug  up  the  tomahawk,  and  runners  were  in- 
stantly despatched  to  the  remoter  tribes ; the  bloody 
war-belt  passed  like  lightning  along  the  border: 
the  peaceful  Mingoes  had  wrongs  of  their  own  to 
avenge,  and  needed  not  to  read  its  mystic  wampum ; 
but  the  red-handled  hatchet  was  shaken  alike  among 
the  deep  forests  of  Ohio,  on  the  sunny  prairies  of 

v 2 


230 


REVENGE. 


Illinois,  and  in  the  dark  glens  of  Pennsylvania; 
while  by  the  thousand  lakes  of  New-York,  the  war- 
like bands  that  haunted  those  crystal  waters  clutched 
with  eagerness  the  fearful  emblem. 

The  allotted  days  of  fasting  had  passed  by  for 
the  friends  of  the  murdered  Delaware ; the  black 
hue  of  mourning  was  washed  from  their  indignant 
brows  ; and,  ere  the  crimson  dye  of  battle  had  dried 
upon  their  cheeks,  the  banks  of  the  Ohio  resounded 
with  the  war-whoop ; while  the  burning  of  their 
cabins,  and  the  massacre  of  their  neighbours,  gave 
the  terrified  settlers  the  first  intimation  of  the  foul 
murder  on  the  Kenawha. 

K-  The  horrors  of  the  war  of  retaliation,  thus  com- 
menced, continued  to  rage  until  Lord  Dunmore’s 
expedition  put  a period  to  the  strife ; and  the  dwellers 
on  the  shore  that  was  coasted  by  the  dead  boatman 
would  long  after  shudder  when  they  remembered 
The  last  errand  of  the  Bald  Eagle . 


231 


THE  ANGEL’S  REST. 


LETTER  XLV. 

The  Angel’s  Rest — Gigantic  Race— Hardships — Mountain  Pool 
— Twin-bom  Rills. 

Parisburg,  Giles  Co.,  West  Virginia,  May  14,  1834. 

The  village  near  which  I have  passed  the  last 
two  days  is  more  romantically  situated  than  any  I 
have  yet  seen  in  Virginia.  It  lies  in  a deep  valley, 
at  the  base  of  an  isolated  mountain,  which  rears  its 
pyramidal  form  so  far  above  the  surrounding  hills 
that  it  is  popularly  known  by  the  name  of  “ The 
Angel’s  Rest.”  It  was  towards  sunset  when  we 
approached  the  place,  and  the  young  men  of  the 
village  were  collected  on  a green  adjacent  to  our 
inn,  and  engaged  in  the  sport  of  tossing  a cannon- 
ball for  a wager.  The  players  were  divided  into 
two  parties ; one  of  which  would  first  have  exclu- 
sive possession  of  the  ball,  while  each  member 
would  throw  it  as  far  as  possible  in  advance  of  the 
place  where  it  last  fell — the  final  throw  sometimes 
carrying  the  heavy  missile  a quarter  of  a mile  from 
the  point  where  it  was  first  started.  The  opposite 
side  would  take  it  up  at  this  spot ; and  if  their  suc- 
cessive throws  returned  the  ball  to  its  starting-place, 
and  carried  it  beyond,  they  had  won  the  game.  The 
sport  is  so  simple  as  to  exhibit  neither  grace  nor 
skill,  but  it  is  a very  good  method  of  testing  the  ag- 


232 


GIGANTIC  RACE. 


gregate  and  relative  strength  of  two  bodies  of  men. 
The  men  who  were  playing  were  of  a strong  and 
sinewy  make,  and  of  about  the  middle  size.  The 
Patagonian  race  for  which  these  mountains,  like 
those  of  Vermont,  are  celebrated,  is  confined  en- 
tirely, so  far  as  my  observation  extends,  to  a gene- 
ration that  is  now  almost  extinct. 

Dr.  C.,  of  the  Transylvania  University,  a distin- 
guished physiologist,  and  who  would  be  regarded 
as  a tall  man  even  in  Kentucky,  had  spoken  to  me 
particularly  about  the  gigantic  race  of  men  that  I 
should  find  among  these  his  native  hills  ; but  so  long 
as  I travelled  with  my  friend  Professor  L.,  we  met 
no  two  individuals  who  could  count  “ twelve  feet 
two”  between  them,  like  ourselves.  There  was 
one  young  man,  indeed,  at  Manchester,  in  Ken- 
tucky, who  had  some  six  inches  the  advantage  of 
either,  and  towered  a giant  between  us ; but,  like 
the  gold-hunting  Hibernian,  who  threw  away  the 
coin  upon  which  he  stumbled  when  his  foot  first 
touched  the  shore  of  promise,  I omitted  to  run  down 
this  native  and  take  his  dimensions,  as  I expected 
soon  to  get  where  specimens  were  thicker.  Since 
then  I have  seen  several  aged  individuals,  both 
male  and  female,  of  threescore  and  upwards,  whose 
towering  forms  and  huge  proportions,  still  apparent 
through  the  decrepitude  of  age,  amply  sustained 
the  representations  of  Dr.  C. : but  the  generation  that 
is  now  in  its  prime  is  by  no  means  remarkable  for 
either  size  or  make ; nor  does  it  excel  in  either  re- 
spect the  ordinary  run  of  men  at  the  north.  It  is 
now  generally  conceded,  I believe,  and  so  far  as 


HARDSHIPS, 


233 


my  own  observation  has  extended  I am  convinced 
of  the  fact,  that  the  largest  race  of  men  in  the 
Union  are  those  inhabiting  the  Valley  of  the  Mis- 
sissippi— an  alluvial,  and  not  a mountainous  country. 

I had  a good  opportunity  of  remarking  upon  this 
while  at  Jefferson  Barracks.  The  dragoons  sta- 
tioned there  were  all  Americans ; in  the  infantry 
there  were  many  Europeans : one  company  of  the 
former  had  been  recruited  in  New-England  and 
New- York,  one  in  Indiana,  and  one  in  Missouri. 
The  average  height  of  the  western  recruits  appeared 
to  me  to  be  much  greater  than  that  of  their  northern 
comrades,  and  far  to  overtop  that  of  the  European 
soldier.  The  last,  however,  holds  himself  so  much 
more  erect  than  either  of  the  others,  that  it  requires 
a nice  eye  to  discriminate  the  difference  in  their 
size  : in  activity  the  northern  men  yielded  to  nei- 
ther. The  existence  of  a powerful  race  of  men  in 
Vermont  and  Western  Virginia,  soon  after  the  set- 
tlement of  these  regions,  may  be  accounted  for  in 
the  same  way  that  the  absence  of  deformity  among 
the  Indians  is  explained.  The  hardships  to  which 
the  pioneers  were  exposed  prevented  any  but  the 
most  vigorous  of  their  children  from  surviving  the 
trials  to  which  their  constitutions  were  subjected ; 
while  the  mothers  that  bore  them  were,  judging 
from  the  few  survivors  that  I have  seen,  large  and 
athletic  far  beyond  the  generality  of  their  sex. 
What  woman,  indeed,  unless  she  had  the  frame,  the 
endurance,  and  the  courage  of  an  Amazon,  could, 
after  following  the  pioneer  to  the  wilderness,  help 
him  to  build  his  cabin  of  logs,  and  use  his  heavy 


234 


MOUNTAIN  POOL. 


rifle  in  its  defence  when  her  husband  was  absent, 
as  many  a female  has  done  on  the  border.  But  if 
it  be  true,  as  some  have  asserted,  that  the  native 
tribes  in  the  Valley  of  the  Mississippi  are  of  a 
larger  make  than  those  found  on  the  other  side  of 
the  Alleghanies,  there  are  probably  other  physical 
causes,  more  dependent  upon  soil  and  climate,  ope- 
rating to  produce  this  greater  development  of  the 
human  form.  The  subject,  however,  has  been  so 
learnedly  handled  by  graver  and  more  ingenious 
pens,  that  you  will  readily  dispense  with  my  pur- 
suing it  here. 

I have  spent  to-day  in  visiting  a very  remarkable 
spot  in  the  neighbourhood  of  this  place.  It  is 
called  the  Salt  Pond  Mountain.  A ride  of  twelve 
miles  through  a rough  but  picturesque  country  car- 
ries you  to  the  top  of  one  of  the  highest  peaks  of 
the  Alleghanies,  where  a deep  tarn  lies  nestled  in  a 
notch  on  the  summit,  as  snugly  as  if  the  bowl  that 
held  it  had  been  scooped  out  for  a Titan’s  drinking 
cup.  The  pool  is  in  the  form  of  a crescent,  about 
a quarter  of  a mile  in  length,  and  limpid  as  the 
mountain  air  around  it.  It  is  said  to  be  more  than 
a hundred  feet  in  depth.  The  bottom  of  this  sin- 
gular lake  is  a submerged  forest,  whose  tall  pines 
and  hemlocks  still  lift  their  tops  to  within  a few 
yards  of  the  surface ; and,  when  standing  on  the 
banks,  you  may  see  the  green  boughs  “ of  other 
days,”  like  the  fabled  towers  of  Lough  Neagh, 

“In  the  wave  beneath  you  shining.” 

The  lake,  too,  like  another  which  the  music-breath- 


MOUNTAIN  POOL. 


235 


ing  verse  of  Moore  lias  immortalized,  is  said  never 
to  be  ruffled  by  the  dip  of  the  swallow’s  wing,  nor 
to  reflect  the  form  of  the  eagle  that  sails  round  the 
mountain  pinnacles  near  it.#  Our  guide  told  us, 
with  solemn  visage,  that  the  wild  deer,  even  when 
most  hotly  pursued,  would  not  take  to  this  gloomy 
water;  myriads  of  lizards,  which  swarmed  in  it 
near  the  shore,  appeared  to  be  the  only  tenants  of 
the  mysterious  pool.  The  account  of  its  origin  is 
not  less  peculiar.  The  spot  which  the  tarn  now 
occupies  is  said  to  have  been  originally  a deep  hol- 
low, or  mountain  glen,  with  one  small  marshy  spot 
at  the^  bottom.  It  was  heavily  wooded,  and  being 
completely  sheltered  from  the  winds,  the  early  set- 
tlers of  the  country,  whose  cattle  browsed  upon 
these  mountains,  would  resort  to  this  convenient 
place  for  the  purpose  of  “ salting”  them,  at  the 
usual  season ; and  it  is  from  this  that  the  term 
“ Salt  Pond”  is  derived,  as  the  water  is  not  at  all 
brackish.  After  the  lapse  of  several  years,  they 
observed  that  the  fenny  spot  at  the  bottom  of  the 
dell  gradually  increased  in  size,  until  the  whole  level 
space  was  converted  into  a swamp.  A lively 
spring  would  then  here  and  there  ooze  through  the 
marshy  surface,  till  at  last  it  was  covered  with  water. 
The  wild  flowers  that  shot  rankly  above  the  moist 
margin  were  soon  after  tossing  their  leaves  upon 
the  strange  element : the  still  taller  fern  upon  the 
hill-side  was  next  invaded ; and  then  the  tassels  of 
the  weeping  birch,  and  the  white  blossoms  of  the 

* “ That  lake  whose  gloomy  shore 

Skylark  never  warbles  o’er.” 


236 


MOUNTAIN  POOL. 


fringe-tree,  floated  upon  the  bosom  of  the  swelling 
tide.  At  last  the  boughs  of  ancient  oaks  began  to 
dip,  while  the  rising  wave  still  mounted  higher  and 
higher,  till  the  cone  of  the  loftiest  pine  lay  far  be- 
neath the  surface  of  the  lake,  whose  new-born  bil- 
lows rippled  against  the  mountain  pinnacles  around.* 
The  outlet  is  now  a gap  in  the  mountain-side, 
where  the  water  escapes  as  over  a milldam.  The 
absence  of  fish  in  the  pond  thus  formed  will  suffi- 
ciently account  for  its  not  being  frequented  by  wild 
fowl ; and  the  fact  of  the  hunted  deer’s  not  taking 
here  to  the  water  is  easily  explained  by  the  embar- 
rassment which  the  submerged  trees  would  offer  to 
his  swimming.  \ y 

About  half  a mile  from  the  Salt  Pond  there  is  a 
rocky  and  bold  eminence,  which  commands  [the 
finest  mountain  view  I have  yet  seen  in  Virginia. 
It  is  said  to  be  rivalled  only  by  that  from  the 
“ Peaks  of  Otter,”  in  eastern  Virginia,  whose  blue 
forks  are  easily  perceptible  from  this  distant  point. 
The  height  is  so  much  elevated  above  the  surround- 
ing ridges,  which  lead  off  their  narrow  crests  on 
every  side,  that  you  look  directly  into  the  bosom  of 
the  intermediate  valleys.  Some  of  these  are  so 
shadowed  by  the  wooded  summits,  that  they  ap- 
pear only  like  deep  furrows  in  an  even  surface — 
dark  ravines  seaming  a broad  forest — while  a wider 
strip  of  cultivation,  a hamlet,  or  a cluster  of  planta- 
tions will  diversify  the  appearance  of  others,  and 
give  a more  smiling  appearance  to  the  landscape. 


* “ Pulsabantque  novi  montana  cacumina  fluctus.35 — Ovid. 


INTERESTING  REMAINS. 


237 


On  the  opposite  sides  of  this  eminence,  and  near 
the  top,  are  two  springs  within  gunshot  of  each 
other.  The  waters  of  the  one  flow  into  a tributary 
of  James  River,  and  are  ultimately  discharged  into 
the  Atlantic  through  Chesapeake  Bay ; the  stream 
of  the  other,  which  is  the  outlet  of  the  tarn  already 
described,  unites  with  the  Kenawha — and  thus, 
through  the  Ohio  and  Mississippi,  communicates 
with  the  Gulf  of  Mexico.  The  poetic  Greeks 
would  have  made  a Peneus  and  Achelous  of  these 
twin-born  rills,  which,  rising  like  those  classic 
brooks  on  the  same  mountain,  unite  again  in  the 
ocean  a thousand  miles  away. 

« 


LETTER  XLVI. 

Interesting  Remains — A Cairn — Sulphur  Springs — Strange  Sto- 
ries— The  Haunted  Sink-Cabins — Agreeable  Intimacies — Inde- 
pendence— Manners. 

White  Sulphur  Springs,  May  20,  1834. 

I had  learned  at  Parisburg  that  some  interesting 
Indian  remains  had  been  discovered  in  .the  vicinity ; 
and  among  other  relics  I was  shown  a tomahawk  of 
brass,  dug  up  in  the  neighbourhood,  which  I vainly 
attempted  to  purchase.  There  were  persons  here 
too,  who,  like  many  I have  met  in  Kentucky  and 
western  Virginia,  pretended  frequently  to  have  seen 
gigantic  human  skeletons  on  turning  up  the  soil ; 

VOL.  IIo — x 


238 


A CAIRN 


and  when  my  companion,  the  young  physician  al- 
ready mentioned,  smiled  incredulously  at  the  idea, 
there  were  several  who  volunteered  to  accompany 
us  a mile  or  two  on  our  journey,  and  assist  in 
making  some  examination  at  a point  where  it  was 
supposed  that  these  bones  might  yet  be  found.  The 
scene  of  our  operations  was  a beautiful  alluvial  bot- 
tom on  the  banks  of  the  Kenawha,  where  a cairn 
composed  of  large  stones  reposed  in  the  midst  of  a 
ploughed  field,  equal  in  size  to  a tolerable  farm. 
Among  others  of  our  party  was  a well-informed  per- 
son, who  seemed  much  pleased  with  the  interest 
that  I manifested  in  relation  to  the  spot,  and  an- 
swered every  inquiry  I made  regarding  it  with  great 
politeness.  He  was  unable,  however,  to  state  any- 
thing more  satisfactory  than  that  there  was  a lively 
superstition  existing  in  the  neighbourhood  in  rela- 
tion to  the  cairn, — it  being  a prevalent  belief,  that, 
however  the  stones  of  which  it  was  composed  might 
be  scattered  over  the  plain,  they  were  sure  soon 
after  to  be  collected  again  upon  the  identical  spot 
where  they  were  first  found  : a phenomenon  which 
I easily  accounted  for  to  myself,  upon  observing 
that  these  were  the  only  stones  in  the  field,  and  be- 
ing so  large  as  to  interfere  with  the  action  of  a 
plough,  it  was  natural  that  the  husbandman,  when 
they  broke  his  furrow,  should  from  time  to  time  re- 
turn them  to  the  central  position  where  I now  be- 
held them.  We  now  removed  a number  of  these 
stones  from  the  surface,  and  displaced  the  soil  for 
a few  yards  around  ; but  found  nothing  but  some 
human  teeth,  and  pieces  of  skull  that  crumbled  in 


SULPHUR  SPRINGS. 


239 


our  fingers  as  we  raised  them  from  the  earth : nor 
was  there  anything  about  them  remarkable  either  in 
size  or  appearance.  The  Virginians  appeared  to 
be  much  chagrined  at  the  unsatisfactory  result  of 
our  labours,  and  urged  me  warmly  to  remain  another 
day  and  explore  a different  place ; but  my  compa- 
nion was  impatient^  to  pursue  his  journey,  and  I did 
not  think  the  prospect  would  repay  me  for  the  loss 
of  his  company.  We  shook  hands  with  our  brother 
resurrectionists,  and  resumed  our  route. 

We  crossed  the  Kenawha  near  this  point,  and 
our  road  then  led  for  many  miles  along  this  roman- 
tic river.  Here  the  bold  crags,  the  highly  cultivated 
bottoms,  the  verdurous  forest,  and  the  full  flowing 
river  combined  in  the  loveliest  succession  of  land- 
scapes, which  changed  every  moment  like  a shift- 
ing diorama.  Evening  found  us  at  the  Red  Sul- 
phur Springs, — a mineral  spa  that  is  beginning  to 
be  much  frequented,  and  which  recommends  itself 
to  the  traveller,  as  well  as  the  invalid,  by  a large 
and  well-kept  hotel  lately  erected.  It  lies  buried 
in  a deep  gorge  of  the  hills,  and  must  have  been 
quite  a picturesque  spot  before  some  Gothic  hand 
swept  the  forest  from  themeighbouring  heights. 

The  Salt  Sulphur  Springs,  another  watering- 
place  very  popular  in  Virginia,  was  our  stopping 
place  the  next  night ; and  here,  though  so  early  in 
the  season,  we  found  several  persons  already  ar- 
rived to  drink  the  waters.  During  the  evening  I 
had  an  interesting  conversation  with  a gentleman 
of  a scientific  turn  of  mind,  in  relation  to  the  use  of 


240 


STRANGE  STORIES. 


“ the  divining  rod  and  I gathered  from  what  he 
said,  that  a belief  in  the  ancient  science  of  rhabdo- 
mancy  was  as  current  in  these  parts  as  it  ever  was 
in  the  land  of  Odin.  Some  strange  stories  were  told 
of  the  successful  resort  to  this  magical  wand  in  dis- 
covering springs  in  the  neighbourhood  ; and  I could 
not  help  thinking,  while  observing  the  gravity  with 
which  they  were  received,  that  the  mystical  suc- 
cessors of  the  Zahuris  of  Spain,  who  enacted  Dous- 
terswivel  in  these  parts,  had  shown  considerable 
shrewdness  in  selecting  so  well  ^watered  a region 
for  their  operations,  and  a people  who  deal  so  little 
in  matters  of  fact  as  the  western  Virginians  for  their 
pupils.  In  no  part  of  the  Union,  unless  perhaps  in 
the  old  Dutch  settlements  along  the  Hudson  or  Mo- 
hawk, will  you  find  so  many  current  superstitions 
as  among  these  mountains.  I remember,  many 
miles  farther  to  the  south-west,  being  overtaken  one 
evening  by  a manly-looking  lad,  who  was  driving  a 
somewhat  fractious  bull  along  the  road,  and  who, 

* The  art  of  discovering  veins  of  water  concealed  in  the  bowels  of 
the  earth,  by  a direct  perception  of  their  existence,  is  mentioned  by 
Kieser  in  his  System  of  Tellurism  as  existing  from  the  most  remote 
periods;  and  notwithstanding  the  ridicule  which  this  branch  of  ma- 
gical lore  has  met  with  in  modern  times,  it  still  has  its  votaries 
among  philosophers  and  physiologists.  A treatise  which  is  men- 
tioned as  having  lately  appeared  in  Paris  is  probably  the  last  addi- 
tion to  the  numerous  works  upon  the  subject  to  be  found  in  the 
libraries  of  the  curious, — many  of  which  the  reader  will  find  enume- 
rated in  Lieber’s  Lexicon.  The  mode  of  using  the  divining  rod 
he  is  doubtless  familiar  with  from  the  humorous  scene  in  The  An- 
tiquary, where  the  credulous  Sir  Arthur  Wardour  and  his  single- 
hearted  daughter  are  so  well  grouped  with  the  shrewd  Scotch  anti- 
quarian and  the  impudent  German  adventurer. 


THE  HAUNTED  SINK. 


241 


finding  it  difficult  to  keep  up  with  me,  asked  im- 
ploringly, but  with  some  shamefacedness,  that  I 
would  not  travel  so  fast,  “ until  he  had  passed  the 
haunted  sink.”  He  told  me,  with  quick  breath,  as 
I reined  up  near  one  of  those  remarkable  hollows 
resembling  an  inverted  cone  which  one  meets  with 
everywhere  in  the  western  country  where  the  lime- 
stone strata  prevail,  that  after  a certain  hour  of  the 
night  a black  goblin  could  be  seen,  every  now  and 
then,  bobbing  up  and  down  in  the  dark  bowl ; and 
that  no  one  ever  paused  in  passing  the  place  after 
nightfall.  1 rode  up  to  the  spot,  and  agreed,  upon 
the  first  glance  into  the  hollow,  that  it  was  a suita- 
ble place  for  the  Erie  King,  or  Black  Huntsman  of 
the  Hartz,  to  nestle  in.  But  as  these  gentlemen, 
according  to  the  best  authorities,  go  on  horseback, 
the  retreat  was  objectionable  from  there  being  no 
room  to  stable  their  steeds.  Upon  surveying  the 
ground  more  minutely,  T observed  that  there  wrere 
several  nut-bearing  trees  around  the  margin  of  “the 
sink,”  whose  fruit  when  ripe  would  naturally  roll 
down  its  sides  to  the  bottom.  A glance  at  the  ne- 
glected fences  of  a neighbouring  plantation  sug- 
gested the  rest.  But  it  was  impossible  to  persuade 
the  credulous  boy,  that  while  the  nuts  thus  collected 
would  lure  the  hogs  hither,  the  funnel  shape  of  the 
hollow,  by  making  it  impossible  for  a four-footed 
beast  to  preserve  a steady  footing  while  feeding 
upon  them,  would  sufficently  account  for  the  Bob- 
bing Demon  of  the  Haunted  Sink. 

The  White  Sulphur  Springs,  where  I have  now 
been  a day  or  two,  is,  you  are  aware,  one  of  the 

x 2 


242 


CABINS. 


most  celebrated  watering-places  in  the  Union ; se- 
cond alone  to  Saratoga  in  the  concourse  of  strangers 
it  brings  together  every  season,  and  not  even  rivalled 
by  the  Lebanon  Springs  of  New-York  in  beauty  of 
situation.  The  attractions  of  both  of  these  favourite 
places  of  resort  may  be  said  to  be  united  here. 
The  company,  though  not  so  numerous,  is  more  di- 
versified than  that  of  Saratoga ; and  the  scenery, 
though  not,  like  that  of  Lebanon,  embalmed  in  the 
descriptions  of  Miss  Sedgwick,  wants  only  a pen 
gifted  as  hers  to  make  its  superior  beauties  appre- 
ciated. Of  the  respective  merits  of  the  different 
mineral  waters  I say  nothing,  for  the  guide-books 
are  particular  enough  upon  that  score  ; and  not  one 
of  fifty  people  that  frequent  a watering-place  trou- 
ble themselves  with  their  analysis.  The  arrange- 
ments for  visiters  are  very  different  at  the  Virginia 
springs  from  those  usual  among  us.  There  are  no 
large  hotels  as  at  Saratoga ; but  the  lodgers  have 
separate  cabins , built  sometimes  of  brick,  not  un- 
frequently  of  boards,  and  more  often  of  hewn  logs. 
These  are  generally  ceiled  and  finished  inside. 
They  are  placed  in  the  care  of  a black  servant,  who 
has  the  complete  charge  of  one  or  more,  and  who 
waits  upon  the  inmate  as  long  as  he  occupies  the 
room. 

These  cabins  are  built  in  ranges  around  an  open 
green,  which  is  often,  as  is  the  case  with  the  White 
Sulphur,  shaded  by  noble  trees.  There  are  spa- 
cious stables  adjacent;  and  here  "again  a particular 
groom  becomes  responsible  for  the  care  of  your 
horse  while  you  remain.  The  meals  are  taken  at 


AGREEABLE  INTIMACIES. 


243 


a table  d'hote,  in  a large  frame  building,  where  the 
manager  has  his  residence.  The  general  arrange- 
ment is  good ; but,  for  a place  like  “ The  White 
Sulphur,”  frequented  by  persons  of  wealth  and  lei- 
sure from  every  part  of  our  widely  extended  Union, 
and  where  the  nett  receipts  for  a single  year  are 
said  to  equal  a moderate  fortune,  there  is  a sloven- 
liness and  want  of  refined  economy  in  many  of  the 
details.  I am  glad  to  see,  however,  upon  looking 
over  the  list  of  last  year’s  visiters,  that  our  northern 
people  are  finding  their  way  to  this  naturally  fa- 
voured spot.  There  are  many  agreeable  intimacies 
formed  here  by  cultivated  persons  from  the  south 
and  west,  who  have  been  long  in  the  habit  of  sha- 
king hands  annually  on  the  summit  of  the  Allegha- 
nies ; and  it  is  time  that  we  should  be  represented 
in  such  accomplished  and  agreeable  company.  If 
the  tour  were  more  common  with  people  of  leisure 
from  the  north,  it  would  tend  much  to  root  out  the 
prejudices  which  three  generations  of  pedlers  have 
sown  everywhere  south  of  the  Potomac  and  west  of 
the  Alleghanies  ; and  if  it  did  not  suggest  epithets 
for  the  character  of  a northerner  in  unison  with 
“ courtly  Carolinian,”  “ generous  Kentuckian,”  and 
“ chivalric  Virginian,”  in  such  liberal  use  among  us, 
it  might,  at  least,  extinguish  associations  which  are 
anything  but  flattering,  and  clear  the  field  for  more 
engaging  sobriquets  to  grow  up  afterward. 

But  it  is  not  alone  the  magnificent  scenery  and 
the  society  of  the  cultivated  that  rewards  the  west- 
ern tourist,  while  stopping  at  such  a place  as  this, 
for  there  is  enough  that  is  original  in  character  and 


244 


INDEPENDENCE. 


interesting  in  manners  amply  to  remunerate  one 
who  should  prosecute  his  excursion  farther  over 
the  mountains,  and  mingle  familiarly  with  the  ordi- 
nary inhabitants  of  the  country.  In  doing  this,  the 
traveller,  in  whatever  garb  he  may  present  himself, 
will  everywhere  be  received  with  courtesy,  provided 
he  be  a gentleman ; and  in  emphasizing  this  word, 
I would  have  you  to  understand  the  term  in  its  real 
and  not  its  conventional  meaning,  in  the  Chester- 
Jieldian  and  not  the  exclusive  sense  of  the  word ; 
for  among  a people  so  high  spirited  and  indepen- 
dent in  character  as  our  tramontane  population,  the 
least  manifestation  of  exclusiveism  will  provoke  in- 
sult from  the  uneducated  classes,  and  meet  with 
the  coolest  contempt  from  those  who,  knowing  more 
of  society,  can  estimate  puppyism  at  its  real  worth. 
The  perfect  feeling  of  equality  that  exists  in  the 
agricultural  districts  has  a happy  effect  upon  the 
manners  of  the  people  generally,  and  produces  a 
quiet  independence  of  demeanour  that  in  older  com- 
munities is  only  found  among  the  members  of  par- 
ticular circles  that  meet  upon  the  same  footing  to- 
gether. There  is  no  petulant  assertion  of  place 
with  a true-born  west  countryman,  because  he  ne- 
ver dreams  that  his  privileges  are  questioned.  He 
enters  into  conversation  with  you  as  an  equal ; and 
if  you  show  no  disposition  to  talk,  provided  you  do 
not  do  it  in  an  offensive  manner,  he  merely  votes 
you  “bad  company,”  and  salutes  as  politely  at  part- 
ing as  when  you  met.  This  easy  but  unobtrusive 
and  manly  manner  is  rarely  attained  by  emigrants 
of  the  same  class  from  the  Atlantic  States ; and 


MOUNTAIN  RIDGES. 


245 


foreigners  of  a similar  condition  in  life  never  acquire 
it.  The  west  countryman,  in  chatting  with  you 
with  the  confidence  of  an  equal',  always  preserves 
the  decorum  of  a stranger;  but  the  Atlantic  emi- 
grant, in  aiming  to  copy  him,  often  mistakes  fami- 
liarity for  frankness,  and  impertinence  for  equality. 


LETTER  XLVIL 

Mountain  Ridges — Hot  Springs — Warm  Springs— Blowing 
Cave — Romantic  District — The  Panther  Gap—A  Farm  House. 

Greenville,  Augusta  Co.  Virginia,  May  25,  1831. 

I arrived  at  this  place  to-day  from  the  White 
Sulphur  Springs,  by  the  way  of  the  Panther  Gap. 
It  was  a few  hours  after  dawn  that,  on  leaving  the 
Springs,  I found  myself  on  the  summit  of  the 
Alleghanies,  and  stopped  to  let  my  horse  drink 
from  a spring  which  soon  formed  a fine  trout- 
brook,*  and  was  the  first  stream  that  I had 
seen  running  eastward.  I endeavoured  to  catch  a 
view  of  the  broad  valley  which  lay  between  me 
and  the  Blue  Ridge,  whose  singular  wall  was  yet 
to  be  passed  before  I should  be  out  of  west  Vir- 
ginia ; but  a dozen  detached  mountain  ridges  filled 
up  the  extensive  tract  between,  and  where  the  deep 
forests  did  not  at  once  limit  the  prospect  below, 

* It  is  said  that  there  are  no  trout  to  be  found  west  of  the  Al- 
leghanies. 


246 


HOT  SPRINGS. 


these  broken  links  of  the  Appalachian  chain  soon 
swelled  before  the  eye,  and  bounded  its  view  on 
whichever  side  it  was  directed.  I slept  that  night 
at  a little  inn  kept  by  an  old  German,  situated  on 
the  bank  of  a rural  stream,  amid  whose  willows  the 
whippoorwills  kept  up  an  incessant  call  to  each 
other  long  after  midnight.  These  singular  birds, 
which  are  so  capricious  in  their  haunts  at  the  north, 
seem  to  abound  everywhere  among  these  moun- 
tains ; and  you  become  so  used  to  their  querulous 
note  from  nightly  hearing  it,  that  you  at  last  love 
the  plaintive  whistle,  and  find  that  its  monotonous 
repetition  lulls  you  agreeably  to  repose. 

I breakfasted  the  next  morning  at  the  Hot 
Springs ; and  took  the  opportunity,  while  my  cof- 
fee was  preparing,  of  enjoying  a bath  of  the  mine- 
ral water,  where  in  one  place  it  fills  a reservoir 
large  enough  to  swim  in.  The  ordinary  tempera- 
ture of  these  springs  is  112°,  though  they  will 
sometimes  boil  an  egg.  The  table  and  attendance 
at  the  hotel  are  very  good,  and  great  improvements 
are  going  forward  in  the  bathing  establishments. 

Neither  the  Hot  Springs,  however,  nor  anything 
in  [the  way  of  luxurious  bathing  that  I have  ever 
seen,  can  compare  with  the  delightful  bath  to  be 
had  at  the  Warm  Springs , which  are  six  miles 
from  the  others.  There  is  here  a large  reservoir  in 
the  shape  of  an  octagon,  enclosed  in  a spacious 
wooden  building.  The  reservoir  is  built  of  stone, 
with  a natural  pebbly  bottom,  through  which  the 
tepid  water  oozes  in  perfect  purity.  The  building 
is  open  at  the  top,  and  admits  the  noonday  sun  into 


WARM  SPRINGS. 


247 


a fountain  so  pellucid  that  the  smallest  object  can 
be  seen  upon  the  bottom.  The  water  rises  to  the 
chest  of  a tall  man,  and  is  spread  over  a surface 
large  enough  to  exercise  the  swimmer.  The  ordi- 
nary temperature  is  96°  Fahr. 

The  building  which  covers  this  delightful  bath  is 
shabby  and  ruinous.  But  art,  however  it  might 
improve  the  accessories,  could  add  nothing  to  the 
luxuriousness  of  the  bath  itself.  The  bath  I had 
already  taken  at  the  Hot  Springs  in  the  morning  did 
not  prevent  me  from  spending  an  hour  or  two  in 
the  delicious  water  here ; and  making  up  my  mind 
after  the  first  plunge  that  I had  never  met  with 
anything  so  grateful,  I ordered  dinner  and  a bed  at 
the  hotel,  and  returned  to  the  spring  more  than 
once  before  betaking  myself  to  the  latter.  Morning 
again  found  me  at  the  bath ; but  after  breakfast  I 
resumed  my  journey.  Ascending  then  a mountain- 
ous ridge  which  bounds  the  springs  on  the  east,  I 
attained  an  elevation  which  is  said  to  command 
a view  of  thirty  miles  in  advance,  and  beheld 
my  whole  day’s  journey  spread  out  before  me. 
The  prospect,  though  it  had  great  sameness,  was 
exceedingly  beautiful  as  a -whole.  There  was  an 
ocean  of  forest  below,  and  the  hilly  ridges  that 
traversed  it,  flecked  here  and  there  with  white  spots, 
indicating  the  buildings  of  the  plantations  that 
skirted  their  sides,  showed  like  breaking  waves  upon 
its  green  surface  ; while  the  glitter  of  the  foliage,  as* 
the  morning  mist  rolled  from  the  upland,  sustained 
the  semblance  of  a freshening  sea. 

Descending  into  the  valley,  the  air  became  ex- 


248 


BLOWING  CAVE. 


tremely  sultry  towards  noon  ; and  after  striking  a 
little  stream  called  the  Cow-pasture  River,  I was 
glad  to  loiter  beneath  the  trees  that  skirted  the  cool 
water.  Here,  as  I moved  slowly  along  the  margin 
of  the  stream,  where  a rocky  bank  rose  some  fifty 
feet  above  the  road  on  the  opposite  side,  I was  sur- 
prised to  feel  a slight  breeze  upon  the  side  of  my 
face  towards  the  rocks.  I drew  up  at  once,  and 
observing  the  wild  flowers  bending  away  from  the 
mouth  of  a small  cavern  on  my  left,  I justly  con- 
cluded that  this  must  be  the  celebrated  Blowing 
Cave,  which  has  so  much  puzzled  the  curious.  The 
mouth  of  the  cavern  is  in  the  face  of  a cliff,  which 
rises  precipitously  from  a broken  bank  that  slopes 
between  its  base  and  the  road.  I tied  my  horse  to 
a grape-vine,  and  climbed  to  the  opening  of  the  airy 
cell.  There  throwing  myself  on  the  long  grass  be- 
fore it,  I could  not  withstand  the  dangerous  tempta- 
tion— fatigued  and  heated  as  I was — of  taking  off 
my  stock,  and  baring  my  bosom  to  the  cool  draught, 
while  drinking  it  in  as  if  it  were  nepenthe.  The 
excessive  bathing  of  the  previous  day,  and  the  noon- 
tide heat  which  now  prevailed,  made  me  feel  too 
languid  and  indolent  to  think  of  examining  the  cave, 
and  indeed  the  fissure  appeared  too  small  to  admit 
of  its  being  explored  to  any  depth;  nor  did  I,  as  I 
lay  there  luxuriating  in  the  moist  breeze,  care 
whether  the  zephyrs  that  fanned  me  were  born  of  a 
Naiad  deep  locked  in  the  mountain,*  or  whether 


* A subterranean  waterfall  is  generally  ascribed  as  the  cause  of 
the  phenomenon  of  the  Blowing  Cave. 


r 


ROMANTIC  DISTRICT.  249 

their  gelid  wings  had  been  fledged  in  the  ice-house 
of  ancient  Nicholas  himself. 

“ Good  day,  sir:  I reckon  you’re  looking  for  the 
Blowing  Cave,  sir?”  called  out  a horseman,  draw- 
ing up  in  the  road  opposite  to  me.  I replied  that  I 
was  at  that  moment  before  the  cave.  “ Well,  now,” 
rejoined  this  inquisitive  wight,  “ I was  going  to  tell 
you  that  you  must  be  pretty  near  it.  I’ve  heard  a 
great  deal  about  that  same  cave ; but  though  I’ve 
gone  by  it  continually  these  ten  years  along  past, 
this  is  the  first  time  I’ve  seen  a man  get  off  his 
horse  to  look  at  it.  I declare  I’ve  a great  mind  to 
come  myself!  Does  it  blow  much,  stranger  !”  He 
concluded,  however,  that  it  was  too  much  trouble 
to  dismount ; and  finding  that  I was  going  the  same 
road  with  himself,  he  determined  to  wait  for  me  till 
I “ got  through  seeing  the  cave.”  And  there  he  sat 
in  the  broiling  sun  within  pistol-shot  of  the  cool 
cell,  and  neither  heat,  nor  curiosity,  nor  jeering 
could  shake  him  from  the  saddle.  At  last,  when  I 
thought  that  his  patience  must  be  completely  ex- 
hausted in  waiting  for  me,  I gathered  a handful  of 
flowers  from  the  many  that  flourished  in  the  moist 
breath  of  the  cave,  and  resuming  my  horse,  jogged 
on  with  the  civil  stranger. 

I parted  from  him  towards  nightfall,  when,  enter- 
ing one  of  the  most  romantic  districts  I have  seen, 
I found  company  enough  in  the  picturesque  scenery 
around  me.  It  was  in  the  mountainous  tract  among 
the  head-waters  of  J'ames  River.  In  one  place  the 
abrupt  and  heavily-wooded  ridges  interlace  their 
spurs  so  closely  that  the  gorge  between  is  not  dis- 

VOL.  II. — Y 


250 


THE  PANTHER  GAP. 


cernible  until  you  enter  it.  In  another,  their  bases 
sweep  off  in  majestic  curves,  which  girdle  in  a 
broad  and  sunny  amphitheatre  of  cultivated  fields 
and  meadows.  Here  the  fertile  meadows  of  a 
narrow  valley  meander  like  a soft  lake  between 
their  wooded  heights  ; and  there  a savage  torrent 
thunders  through  the  cloven  crags,  and  threatens 
the  narrow  pathway  that  follows  its  impetuous 
course.  The  Panther  Gap,  which  is  the  last  of 
these  glens,  is  one  of  the  finest  mountain  passes  I 
have  seen.  The  prodigious  height  and  sheer  de- 
scent of  the  parted  cliffs,  that  appear  to  have  been 
torn  asunder  to  form  the  passage,  with  the  redun- 
dant forest  growth  at  their  base,  give  both  dignity 
and  richness  to  the  scene.  Looking  from  the  bot- 
tom of  the  narrow  dell,  you  know  not  whether  most 
to  admire  the  towering  crag  that  cleaves  the  sky 
above  you,  or  the  fragrant  thickets  of  laurel  and 
magnolia,  that,  blossoming  at  its  foot,  essay  to  climb 
the  knees  of  their  rugged  parent. 

Soon  after  emerging  from  the  Panther  Gap,  I 
chanced  to  pass  a farm  yard,  where  a blue-eyed  and 
buxom  country  girl  was  just  stepping  over  the 
fence  with  a pail  of  milk  in  her  hand,  as  I issued 
from  a grove  and' reined  up  near  her.  She  paused 
for  a moment  to  draw  her  dress  over  a tight  ankle 
that  rested  on  the  middle  rail,  and  then,  with  blush- 
ing cheeks,  informed  me  that  her  father  could  ac- 
commodate me  for  the  night — the  nearest  inn  being 
many  miles  off.  The  house  stood  remote  from  the 
road,  at  the  end  of  a long  lane;  and  dismounting  to 
let  down  the  bars,  I took  my  bridle  in  my  hand, 


MY  LODGINGS. 


251 


and,  guided  by  the  young  woman,  soon  presented 
myself  before  her  family,  by  whom  I was  hospitably 
entertained  and  lodged  for  the  night.  The  rooms 
of  the  farm  house — though  the  establishment  was 
large  enough  to  be  very  comfortable — were  sepa- 
rated from  each  other  by  a board  partition  only  ; 
and  everything  said  or  done  within  the  outer  walls 
w^as  distinctly  audible  through  the  flimsy  wrainscot. 
But  I had  been  so  accustomed  to  the  most  piquant 
vicinities,  while  sharing  their  single-roomed  lodge 
writh  the  blooming  family  of  many  a settler  in  the 
far  West,  that  I now,  on  retiring  early  to  rest,  sunk 
to  slumber  without  being  at  all  molested  by  the 
murmur  and  the  movement  round  me. 


LETTER  XLVIII. 

Beautiful  Valley — Sunday  Parties — Collegiate  Institution—1 The 
Natural  Bridge — University  of  Virginia — Adieu  to  the  West — 
Retrospection — Pleasure  of  W andering — Conclusion. 

Charlottesville.  East  Virginia,  June  2,  1834. 

An  early  breakfast,  and  a kind  farewell  from  the 
tight  lass  who  had  introduced  me  into  this  hospita- 
ble farm  house,  sent  me  in  good  spirits  on  my 
journey  the  next  morning;  and  arriving  at  Green- 
ville to  dinner,  I learned  that  I was  within  forty 
miles  of  Jefferson’s  Natural  Bridge,  and  determined 
to  visit  it.  Accordingly,  the.  next  morning  I left 


252 


SUNDAY  PARTIES. 


my  valise  at  the  excellent  inn  where  I had  passed 
the  night,  and  took  my  road  on  horseback  across 
the  country.  My  route  led  through  a beautiful 
valley  along  the  western  base  of  the  Blue  Ridge, 
whose  purple  summits  were  relieved  against  a 
magnificent  volume  of  clouds,  which,  rolling  their 
rich  masses  on  the  easy  breeze,  would  now  give  a 
hundred  shadows  to  play  on  the  undulating  fields 
carved  out  of  the  w7oody  hill-side,  and  now  bare  the 
blue  space  above  and  the  green  meadows  below7 
alike  to  the  full  sunlight. 

It  was  Sunday  morning,  and  the  roads  were  filled 
with  gay  equestrians,  or  negroes  on  foot,  all  dressed 
out  in  their  best  apparel,  and  trooping  off  to  display 
their  finery  at  the  nearest  church.  Here  you 
would  see  a score  of  mountain  lasses,  with  scarlet 
saddle-cloths,  and  gaudy  plaids  flung  over  their 
laps  and  depending  from  the  stirrup,  as  a substitute 
for  the  cumbersome  riding-skirt — with  no  male  in 
attendance,  except  perhaps  a little  negro,  ensconced, 
like  the  goblin  page,  on  the  crupper,  and  grinning 
with  delight  to  be  thus  chosen  to  wait  on  his  young 
mistress  ; and  there,  taking  their  way  over  the  fields, 
and  stopping  to  sun  themselves  on  every  fence  they 
came  to,  a gang  of  dandy-looking  blackees,  each 
with  an  enormous  cudgel,  in  lieu  of  the  gold-headed 
whalebone  which  is  elsewhere  so  much  in  vogue. 
Occasionally  a solitary  horseman  would  raise  his 
broad-brimmed  white  beaver  to  me,  as,  issuing 
from  some  green  lane,  he  took  the  dusty  highway ; 
and  entering  into  easy  chat,  we  would  jog  along  for 
a mile  or  two  together.  Amid  all  these  indications 


COLLEGIATE  INSTITUTION. 


253 


of  a populous  and  long-settled  country,  I met  with 
one  group  that  seemed  singularly  placed  in  scenes 
so  cultivated. 

Beneath  the  boughs  of  a mossy  oak,  that  stood 
in  a verdant  swale  by  the  road  side,  reclined  an 
Indian  female  with  an  infant  at  her  bosom ; while  a 
long-haired  Tennessean  in  a hunting-shirt,  who 
proved  to  be  her  husband,  wTas  engaged  in  broiling 
some  fish  over  a fire  a few  yards  off.  A half- 
blooded  wolf-dog  lay  at  the  feet  of  the  woman,  with 
a young  boy  curled  up  asleep  between  the  out- 
stretched legs  of  the  savage-looking  animal ; his 
chubby  cheek  reposing  upon  its  grizzly  crest.  Near 
them  grazed  a couple  of  shaggy  Indian  ponies, 
whose  wooden  saddles  and  tattered  blankets  of  blue 
and  scarlet  were  thrown  carelessly  on  the  green 
turf  around  the  gnarled  roots  of  the  tree  which 
formed  the  foreground  of  the  picture. 

About  noon  I found  myself  on  the  meadowy 
bank  of  a clear  rushing  stream,  whose  opposite 
shore  rose  in  precipitous  cliffs  from  the  water. 
Here  the  rifted  hemlock  and  cedar,  flinging  their 
branches  far  over  the  current,  contrasted  vividly  in 
their  dusky  green  with  the  light  foliage  of  the  wil- 
lows and  sycamores  that  skirted  the  water’s  edge 
where  the  highway  approached  the  brink.  The 
collegiate  institution  of  the  little  town  of  Lexington, 
with  its  rather  pretty  but  formal-looking  pleasure 
grounds,  first  met  my  eye  after  fording  the  stream  : 
it  stands  on  an  eminence  back  from  the  road,  and 
forms  the  first  object  of  attention  in  entering  the 
village.  I paused  merely  long  enough  to  observe 


254 


THE  NATURAL  BRIDGE. 

that  there  were  indications  of  wealth  and  style 
about  the  place  which  are  seldom  met  with  in  the 
country  towns  of  west  Virginia.  The  pretty  scene- 
ry along  the  rest  of  my  route  is  probably  familiar 
to  you  from  the  descriptions  of  the  numerous  tra- 
vellers who  have  resorted  to  the  interesting  spot 
where  I now  found  myself  a pilgrim. 

The  ordinary  engravings  (that  in  Tanner’s  Atlas 
is  the  most  spirited  that  I have  seen)  give  you  a 
perfect  idea  of  the  Natural  Bridge.  The  first  feel- 
ing when  you  stand  by  the  stream  below  it  is  one 
of  disappointment;  nor  is  it  till  after  you  have 
walked  under  the  towering  arch,  and  surveyed  from 
above  the  deep  chasm  which  it  spans,  that  you  fully 
appreciate  its  gigantic  magnitude.  But  though  the 
popular  descriptions  have  not  exaggerated  its  in- 
terest, yet  this  singular  formation  must  yield,  I 
think,  in  grandeur,  to  the  Natural  Tunnel  of  Scott 
county.  The  perfect  proportions  of  the  bridge 
render  it  the  more  remarkable  natural  curiosity  of 
the  two ; but  the  depth  of  the  ravine,  and  the  size 
of  the  combining  masses  of  rock,  are  so  much 
greater  in  the  tunnel,  that  the  impression  made  by 
its  yawning  cavern,  opening  amid  frightful  preci- 
pices, is  of  a deeper  character  than  that  inspired  by 
the  airy  and  graceful  arch  of  the  Natural  Bridge. 
Either,  however,  will  amply  reward  the  tourist. 

The  day  that  I have  already  passed  at  Charlottes- 
ville has  been  most  agreeably  spent  in  visiting  the 
University  of  Virginia,  which  is  the  most  imposing 
and  beautifully  situated  of  any  academic  institution 
in  the  country.  It  lies  in  a healthy,  fertile,  and 


UNIVERSITY  OF  VIRGINIA. 


255 


picturesque  valley,  and  encloses  everything  within 
its  walls  to  make  the  student  that  paces  its  beautiful 
arcades  proud  of  belonging  to  so  noble  an  establish- 
ment. It  is  situated  in  a populous  and  opulent 
neighbourhood  in  east  Virginia,  just  over  the  border, 
and  within  a morning’s  ride  of  the  Blue  Ridge. 
One  could  hardly  devise  a more  perfect  geographi- 
cal division  than  that  which  separates  east  and 
west,  or  new  and  old  Virginia,  as  the  regions  on 
either  side  of  this  remarkable  wall  are  termed  by 
those  dwelling  near  it.  With  the  exception  of  those 
abrupt  gaps  through  which  James  River,  the  Roa- 
noke, and  the  Potomac  find  their  way  to  the  At- 
lantic, the  rocky  height  extends  in  an  unbroken  line 
completely  through  the  whole  state.  Viewed  from 
a distance,  the  blue  boundary  always  presents  the 
same  appearance,  and  its  smooth  purple  summit, 
everywhere  parallel  with  the  horizon,  could  never 
be  mistaken  for  any  of  the  mountain  ridges  adjacent. 
So  narrow,  too,  and  so  perfectly  defined  is  it,  that 
when  you  have  attained  the  highest  acclivity  you 
may  almost  stride  the  crest.  “ How  far  do  you 
call  it  over  the  ridge  ?”  I asked  a countryman,  as  I 
reined  up  on  an  eminence  which  on  a clear  day 
would  have  commanded  an' extensive  view  on  either 
side.  “ Well,  I reckon  your  horse’s  fore-legs  are 
at  this  moment  in  old  Virginia,”  was  the  significant 
reply. 

I turned  in  the  saddle  to  bid  a last  adieu  to  the 
romantic  West ; but  the  landscape  was  shrouded 
in  mist,  whose  rolling  masses  curled  up  so  closely 
to  the  height  on  which  I stood,  that  the  whole 


Adieu  to  the  West, 


valley  below  looked  like  a sea  of  vapour.  At  times 
the  breeze  would  part  the  airy  billows  near  me,  and 
the  jagged  stem  of  a rifted  pine  would  loom  like 
the  mast  of  a dismantled  ship  through  the  haze.  I 
lingered  in  the  hope  of  at  last  catching  a glimpse  of 
the  beautiful  tracts  below;  but  the  scudding  rack 
soon  snatched  the  shadowy  trunk  from  view,  and 
left  me  in  doubt  whether  fancy  had  not  conjured  up 
the  dim  form  that  I had  just  beheld.  But  fancy— 
as  I at  last  moved  slowly  from  the  spot — was 
otherwise  and  more  agreeably  busy.  A thousand 
scenes  as  lovely  as  that  now  veiled  from  my  view 
thronged  upon  memory,  as  I bade  a lingering  fare- 
well to  the  glorious  region  where  I had  enjoyed 
them. 

It  was  now  the  last  day  of  spring;  and  since  the 
previous  autumn  I had  traversed  countries  where 
every  variety  of  scenery  that  these  latitudes  afford 
was  displayed  upon  the  grandest  scale,  and  in  di- 
versified prodigality.  I- had  crossed  the  wild  sources 
of  the  Ohio  in  western  Pennsylvania,  a thousand 
miles  above  its  junction  with  the  Mississippi;  and  I 
had  coasted  its  romantic  shores  almost  the  whole 
distance  from  its  mouth.  I had  wandered  through 
the  interminable  forests  of  the  state  that  bears  its 
name,  and  had  surveyed  the  open  glades  and  smiling 
lakes  of  Michigan.  I had  galloped  over  the  grassy 
savannas  of  Indiana,  and  hunted  on  the  boundless 
prairies  of  Illinois.  I had  seen  the  savage  hills 
and  plashy  rice-pools  of  Wisconsan.  I had  forded 
the  wild  Washtenong  of  the  northern  peninsula- 
skirted  the  frozen  beach  of  its  western  boundary-^ 


RETROSPECTION. 


257 


and  stood  on  the  hoary  bluffs  of  the  Mississippi, 
five  hundred  miles  above  the  mouth  of  the  Missouri, 
— and  I had  seen  that  overwhelming  mass  of  wa- 
ters, which  rises  in  regions  of  perpetual  snow,  and 
pours  its  current  into  the  ocean  in  the  clime  of  the 
myrtle  and  olive,  wjiere  it  first  mingles  its  boiling 
eddies  with  the  Father  of  Rivers.  I had  loitered 
along  the  meadowy  banks  of  .the  Illinois,  and  among 
the  savage  cliffs  of  the  Kentucky;  in  the  pastoral 
valleys  of  Tennessee,  and  amid  the  romantic  glens 
of  western  Virginia — and  now  it  seemed  as  if  all 
these  scenes  came  crowding  in  their  diversified 
magnificence  before  me,  while  I longed  for  the 
wand  of  an  enchanter  to  fix  the  lineaments  of  each 
as  its  colours  sprang  to  life.  And  then  came  that 
reflection — half  regretful,  half  impatient — that  I 
have  often  known  in  my  solitary  wanderings — 
“ Why  should  Nature  thus  lavish  her  beauties,  thus 
waste  herself  on  silence  ? Why  are  there  none  to 
sing  her  primeval  glories  in  our  land?”  Alas!  the 
majority  of  mankind  have  no  innate  sense  of  beauty 
and  majesty.  They  admire  only  because  others 
have  admired  before  them  ; and  whether  it  be  with 
an  opera,  a book,  or  a landscape,  a woman  or  a 
flower,  or  any  other  beautiful  and  fleeting  thing* 
men  worship  because  others  have  knelt,  and  fall  in 
raptures  precisely  where  fashion  and  guide-books 
tell  them  that  they  ought.  So  marked,  indeed,  is 
this  disposition  to  approve  gregariously  if  we  ap- 
prove at  all,  that  even  genius  is  not  free  from  its 
influence  ; and  if  a poet  immortalizes  one  place* 
the  rhyming  brotherhood  of  a hundred  generations 


258 


PLEASURE  OF  WANDERING. 


will  devote  the  powers  of  their  art  to  the  same 
identical  spot;  while  many  a scene  as  fair  will 
lavish  its  unrifled  beauties  near,  unnoticed  and  un- 
known.. 

I have  often  mused  to  this  effect,  while  riding 
day  after  day,  and  week  after  week,  entirely  alone 
through  solitudes  where  the  poet  and  painter  might 
find  the  noblest  subjects  to  inspire  them.  But 
there  are  other  reflections  incident  to  so  solitary  a 
tour  in  an  untravelled  country,  which  are  but  little 
in  unison  with  these.  There  is  a singular  joyous- 
ness in  a wilderness  ; a vague  feeling  of  solitude, 
and  a vivid  sense  of  the  primal  freshness  which 
breathes  around  you,  that  mingle  most  strangely 
together,  and  make  you  own  at  the  time  that  the 
subduing  hand  of  cultivation  and  the  golden  em- 
bellishments of  art,  could  add  nothing  here ; while 
the  sympathy  of  companionship,  however  desirable 
in  a crowd,  would  but  divide  the  full  impression  of 
the  hour.  And  in  realizing  this  emotion,  I have 
felt  amid  some  scenes  a kind  of  selfish  pleasure,  a 
wild  delight,  that  the  spot  so  lovely  and  so  lonely 
was,  as  it  were,  all  my  own  ; that — like  cheeks  that 
flush  and  eyes  that  brighten  at  the  sound  of  one 
voice,  and  but  one  voice  only — it  bloomed  alone 
for  me.  Its  virgin  freshness  and  its  youth  were 
mine.  And  what  cared  I,  as  the  cup  of  delight 
sparkled  before  me,  for  others  to  pledge  me  in  the 
draught?  what  for  association  to  hallow  or  art  to 
emboss  the  goblet,  while  I could  drink  it  off  with 
the  bead  upon  the  brim? 

But  hark  ! that  discordant  post-horn,  breaking  in 


CONCLUSION. 


259 


upon  these  idle  musings,  tells  me  that  they  must 
close  here  with  the  tour  that  called  them  forth.  I 
have  parted  with  my  horse,  and  booked  a place  in 
the  stage-coach  for  Washington  ; and  the  breeze 
that,  charged  with  the  blossoms  of  June,  floats 
through  my  open  window,  whispers  no  longer  of  a 
Winter  in  the  West. 


j 


APPENDIX 


Note  A. — Page  9. 

Carver,  who  visited  Prairie  du  Chienin  1766,  describes  it,  under 
the  name  of  “ The  Lower  Town  of  the  Ottagaumies,”  as  a large 
place,  “ containing  about  three  hundred  families.  The  houses,” 
he  adds,  “are  well  built,  after  the  Indian  manner,  and  pleasantly 
situated  on  a very  rich  soil,  from  which  they  raise  every  necessary 
of  life  in  abundance.  This  town  is  the  great  mart  where  all  the 
adjacent  tribes,  and  even  those  who  inhabit  the  most  remote 
branches  of  the  Mississippi,  annually  assemble  about  the  latter  end 
of  May,  bringing  with  them  their  furs  to  dispose  of  to  the  traders.’’ 
The  aspect  of  the  village  is  very  different  at  present.  It  consists, 
exclusive  of  two  or  three  frame-built  stores,  of  some  five- and -twenty 
rude  and  ruinous  dwelling-houses,  which  are  almost  black  with  age, 
and  the  population  can  hardly  amount  to  two  hundred  souls.  The 
situation  of  the  hamlet  and  the  features  of  the  country  adjacent,  are 
thus  described  in  “ Long’s  Second  Expedition — 11  The  village  of 
Prairie  du  Chien  is  situated  four  or  five  miles  above  the  mouth  of  the 
Wisconsan,  on  a beautiful  prairie,  which  extends  along  the  eastern 
bank  of  the  river  for  about  ten  miles  in  length,  and  which  is  limited 
to  the  east  by  a range  of  steep  hills,  rising  to  a height  of  about  four 
hundred  and  thirty-five  feet,  and  running  parallel  with  the  course  of 
the  river  about  a mile  and  a half.  On  the  western  bank  are  bluffs 
which  rise  to  the  same  elevation,  and  are  washed  at  their  base  by 
the  river.  ‘Pike’s  Hill,’  which  is  on  the  west  bank,  immediately 
opposite  to  the  mouth  of  the  Wisconsan,  is  about  five  hundred  and 
fifty  feet  high.  The  hill  has  no  particular  limits  in  regard  to  its 
extent,  being  merely  a part  of  the  river’s  bluffs,  which  stretch  along 
the  margin  of  the  river  on  the  west,  and  retain  pretty  nearly  hhe 
same  elevation  above  the  water.  In  general  the  acclivity  toward 
the  river  is  made  up  of  precipices  ranged  one  above  another,  some 
of  which  are  one  hundred  and  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet  high. 

VOL.  II. Z 


262 


APPENDIX. 


From  the  top  there  is  a tine  view  of  the  two  rivers  which  mingle 
their  waters  at  the  base  of  this  majestic  hill.” — [Expedition  to  the 
Sources  of  St.  JPeter’s  River,  vol.  i.  p.  238.] 

Note  B. — Page  16. 

These  curious  remains  are  very  numerous  in  the  vicinity  of 
Prairie  du  Chien,  and  extend  alike  along  the  bluffs  which  face  the 
Mississippi  and  those  which  run  parallel  to  the  Wisconsan  (or 
Ouisconsin,  as  it  is  sometimes  written).  The  former,  which  are 
the  works  alluded  to  in  the  text,  are  thus  described  by  Major  Long, 
in  his  journal  of  1817: — 

“ The  remains  of  ancient  works,  constructed  probably  for  military 
purposes,  were  found  more  numerous  and  of  greater  extent  on  the 
highlands,  just  above  the  mouth  of  the  Wisconsan,  than  any  of 
which  a description  has  been  made  public,  or  that  have  as  yet  been 
discovered  in  the  western  country.  There  the  parapets  and  mounds 
were  found  connected  in  one  series  of  works.  Wherever  there 
was  an  angle  in  the  principal  lines,  a mound  of  the  largest  size  was 
erected  at  the  angle ; the  parapets  were  terminated  by  mounds  at 
each  extremity,  and  also  at  the  gateways.  No  ditch  was  observed 
on  either  side  of  the  parapet.  In  many  places  the  lines  were  com- 
posed of  parapets  and  mounds  in  conjunction,  the  mounds  being 
arranged  along  the  parapets  at  their  usual  distance  from  each  other, 
and  operating  as  flank  defences  to  the  lines. 

“ The  Indians  in  the  vicinity  of  Prairie  du  Chien  can  give  no 
account  of  these  ancient  works,  and  their  only  mode  of  explaining 
their  existence  is  by  supposing  that  the  country  was  inhabited,  at  a 
period  anterior  to  the  most  remote  traditions,  by  a race  of  white  men 
similar  to  those  of  European  origin,  and  that  they  were  cut  off  by 
their  forefathers.  c It  is  said  that  tomahawks  of  brass  and  other 
metals,  differing  from  those  in  use  among  the  present  Indians,  have 
been  found  under  the  surface  of  the  ground.’ — [Keating.]  And 
stories  are  told  of  gigantic  skeletons  being  often  disinterred  in  the 
neighbourhood.  Mr.  Brisbois,  who  has  been  for  a long  time  a resi- 
dent of  Prairie  du  Chien,  informed  me  that  he  saw  the  skeletons  of 
eight  persons  that  were  found  in  digging  a cellar  near  his  house, 
lying  side  by  side.  They  were  of  a gigantic  size,  measuring  about 
eicdit  feet  from  head  to  foot.  He  added,  that  he  took  a leg  bone  of 
one  of  them  and  placed  it  by  the  side  of  his  own  leg,  in  order  to 
compare  the  length  of  the  two ; the  bone  of  the  skeleton  extended 
six  inches  above  his  knee.  None  of  these  bones  could  be  preserved, 


NOTES. 


263 


as  they  crumbled  to  dust  soon  after  they  were  exposed  to  the  atmo- 
sphere.”— [Major  Long’s  MS.  as  quoted  in  his  Second  Expedition.] 

Note  C. — Page  24. 

“ This  river,  like  the  Ohio,  seems  to  unite  with  the  Mississippi 
in  a hilly  country  ; the  hills  rise  from  the  height  of  one  hundred  and 
fifty  to  two  hundred  feet ; their  sides  are  abrupt,  and  the  soil  is  but 
indifferent.  T’he  Wisconsan  has  been  for  a long  time  past  the  usual 
communication  between  the  lakes  and  the  Mississippi.  About  one 
hundred  and  eighty  miles  above  the  mouth  of  the  Wisconsan,  this 
river  comes  so  near  to  the  Fox  River  of  Green  Bay,  that  a portage 
of  two  thousand  five  hundred  yards  across  a low  and  level  prairie, 
which  is  sometimes  overflowed,  establishes  a connexion  between  the 
two  streams.  From  the  portage  down  to  the  mouth  of  Fox  River, 
in  the  Green  Bay  of  Lake  Michigan,  the  distance  is  computed  at 
from  one  hundred  and  fifty  to  one  hundred  and  eighty  miles.” — [Ex 
pedition  to  the  Sources  of  St.  Peter’s  River.] 

Note  D. — Page  56. 

The  author  was  not  aware,  when  the  observations  contained  in 
the  text  were  written,  that  the  grand  scheme  of  uniting  the  lakes 
and  the  Mississippi  was  entertained  by  the  general  government *, 
by  whom  alone  it  ought  to  be  carried  into  execution,  and  that  upon 
the  liberal  scale  recommended  in  the  following  estimate  made  by 
the  head  of  the  Engineer  Department.  It  was  first  published  while 
this  volume  was  passing  through  the  press. 

Engineer  Department, 

Washington,  June  23,  1834. 

Sir— —I  beg  leave  to  submit,  as  supplement  to  my  letter  of  the  6th 
instant,  the  following  estimate  of  the  probable  cost  of  a canal  of  the 
largest  dimensions,  from  Chicago  to  the  mouth  of  the  Little  Ver- 
milion of  the  Illinois. 

The  first  twenty-seven  miles  to  be  one  hundred  feet  wide  at  the 
surface,  and  ten  deep ; and  the  remaining  distance  of  sixty-five  miles 
to  be  not  less  than  one  hundred  feet  at  the  surface,  and  six  feet 
deep. 

From  Lake  Michigan  to  the  point  where  a level  line  ten  feet 
below  its  surface  will  intersect  the  valley  of  the  Illinois  river,  is 
twenty-seven  miles,  twenty-five  of  which  should  not  be  less  than  one 
hundred  feet  wide,  and  the  remaining  two  in  short  sections,  distri- 


264 


APPENDIX. 


buted  at  convenient  distances,  to  be  two  hundred  feet  wide,  to  accom- 
modate boats  while  detained  in  exchanging  cargoes,  without  inter- 
ruption to  the  navigation.  As  has  been  stated  in  my  letter,  the 
average  depth  of  the  excavation  for  this  section  will  be  about  twenty 
feet.  This  is  assumed,  therefore,  in  the  estimate.  The  whole 
quantity  of  excavation,  then,  will  be,  on  the  supposition  that  the  base 
of  the  slopes  will  equal  the  height,  and  that  the  water  level  will  be 
about  midway  down  the  excavation,  giving  the  width  of  that  sur- 
face as  the  width  of  the  section  to  be  excavated — 

25  miles,  or  44,000  X 33§  X6§=  9,577,772  c.  yds. 

2 miles,  or  3,520x66|  X6§=  1,464,000  c.  yds. 


11,041,772  c.  yds. 

Assuming  one-fourth  of  this,  say  2,760,443  cubic  yards,  to  be 
rock,  and  the  remaining  three -fourths,  or  8.281,329  cubic  yards,  to 
be  clay  and  sand. 

On  the  Chesapeake  and  Ohio  canal  the  cost  of  quarrying  rock  is 
put  down  at  31^-  cents,  and  the  excavation  of  earth  at  9 9-10  cents, 
per  cubic  yard  (see  page  70,  Doc.  18,  1st  session  22d  Congress). 
But  as  the  distance  to  which,  on  this  canal,  the  excavation  will 
have  to  be  removed  is  greater,  generally,  than  on  the  Chesapeake 
and  Ohio  canal,  it  is  supposed  that  an  advance  on  these  rates  of 
something  more  than  one-half  must  certainly  cover  the  expense  of 
this  work. 

The  excavation  of  rock  is,  therefore,  assumed  at  50  cents,  and 
that  of  clay  and  sand  at  15  cents.  We  then  have  for 

2,760,443  cubic  yards  of  rock  excavation,  Dollars 
at  50  cents.  .....  1,380,221  50 
8,281,329  cubic  yards  of  earth  excavation, 
at  15  cents 1,242,199  35 

Cost  of  summit,  27  miles,  . . 2,622,420  85 

From  the  western  termination  of  the  summit  to  the  Little  Ver- 
milion, the  canal  will  follow  the  right  bank  of  the  river,  keeping  as 
near  the  bluffs  as  may  be  found  necessary.  Wherever  the  bluff  is 
used  as  one  of  the  sides  of  the  canal,  but  one  embankment  will  be 
required,  thereby  saving  greatly  in  the  cost  of  construction ; and  as 
it  is  proposed  to  secure  to  this  branch  of  the  canal  a minimum  navi- 
gation of  six  feet,  the  embankment  will  require  an  altitude  of  eight 
feet.  This  will  admit,  in  a case  of  necessity,  an  increase  of  an 
additional  foot  of  water  without  greater  expense.  The  whole  dis- 


NOTES. 


265 


iance  of  single  embankment  is  sixty-five  miles,  to  which  twenty-five 
miles  may  be  added  as  a full  allowance  for  double  embankment,  at 
places  where  the  bluffs  recede  too  far  from  the  axis  of  the  canal : 


thus,  then,  we  will  have  ninety  miles  of  embankment  to  construct. 

The  dimensions  proposed  for  this  embankment  are  2^- yards  high} 
4 yards  wide  at  the  top,  and  14 1 at  the  base,  giving  a section  of 
24  83-100  multiplied  by  the  length,  which  is  90  miles,  or  158,400 
yards,  equalling  3,933072  cubic  yards  at  15  cents,  as  before  stated, 
$589,960  80. 

On  the  same  canal  the  lockage  cost  1,000  dollars  per  foot  lift 
Suppose  that  on  account  of  the  greater  dimensions  to  be  given  to 
the  locks  on  this  canal,  and  the  difficulty  of  procuring  in  a new 
country  a sufficient  number  of  good  workmen,  that  each  foot  will 
cost  2,500  dollars,  which  may  be  considered  large,  then  139  64-100 
feet  fall  will  cost  348,100  dollars. 

Culverts,  aqueducts,  and  other  masonry,  will  have  to  be  con- 
structed at  various  points,  to  admit  the  free  discharge  from  streams 
that  flow  into  the  Illinois.  The  cost  of  these  cannot  at  this  time  be 
correctly  estimated,  but  is  assumed  to  equal  that  of  the  lockage, 
which  must  be  regarded  as  high,  348,100  dollars. 

Add  for  contingencies,  such  as  diverting  the  Des  Plaines  into  the 
Chicago  River,  pay  of  engineers,  and  other  unforeseen  expenses, 
ten  per  cent,  on  the  foregoing  amount,  $390,858  16. 

Recapitulation.  Dollars 

Cuts  across  summit  ....  2,622,420  85 


Embankment  below  summit  . 
Lockage  . 

Masonry,  aqueducts,  &c.  &c. 
Contingencies 


589,960  80 
348,100  00 
348,100  00 
390,858  16 


Total  estimated  cost  . . 4,299,439  81 

This  is  submitted  with  great  diffidence,  it  being  but  an  approx- 
imation to  what  the  cost  may  be  found  to  be  on  actual  construction. 
I have  the  honour  to  be,  sir,  your  most  obedient  servant, 

C.  Gratiot,  Chief  Engineer. 

To  the  Hon.  Charles  F.  Mercer , Chair  man , cf*c. 


JSTote  E. — Page  58. 

Jacksonville,  as  being  one  of  the  largest  inland  towns  of  Illinois, 
deserves  a more  particular  notice  than  it  receives  in  the  text.  It  is 
situated  on  elevated  ground,  in  the  midst  of  an  undulating  prairie, 

z 2 


266 


APPENDIX. 


which  is  uncommonly  rich  and  in  a good  state  of  cultivation.  The 
plot  of  the  town  was  laid  off  in  1825.  In  1834  “ The  Gazetteer  of 
Illinois”  was  published  in  the  place,  and  in  it  we  find  the  followiug 
account  of  the  progress  of  society  here  during  the  intermediate  nine 
years.  The  enumeration  of  the  different  pursuits  in  the  new  com- 
munity is  curious. 

“ Jacksonville  has  sixteen  stores,  six  groceries,  two  druggist 
shops,  two  taverns  or  hotels,  several  respectable  boarding  houses, 
one  baker,  two  saddlers,  three  hatters,  one  silversmith,  one  watch- 
maker, two  tinners,  three  cabinet  makers,  one  machinist,  one  house 
and  sign  painter,  six  tailors,  two  cordwainers,  four  blacksmiths, 
three  chair  makers,  one  coach  maker,  one  wagon  maker,  one  wheel- 
wright, eleven  lawyers,  and  ten  physicians.  It  has  one  steam  flour 
and  saw-mill,  a manufactory  for  cotton  yarn,  a distillery,  two  oil- 
mills,  two  carding  factories,  a tannery,  and  three  brick -yards  ; with 
a proportion  of  various  mechanics  in  the  building  line  and  other 
trades.  The  public  buildings  are  a spacious  court-house  of  brick,  a 
neat  frame  building  for  the  Presbyterian  house  of  worship,  a large, 
brick  building  for  the  Methodist  society,  and  a handsome  edifice, 
also  of  brick,  for  the  Episcopal  denomination;  a female  academy,  a 
brick  market- house,  and  a county  jail.  The  college  edifices  are  one 
mile  west  from  the  town.  There  are  two  printing  offices  that  pub- 
lish weekly  papers,  and  also  a book  and  job  printing  office,  with  a 
bindery  attached.  The  present  population  of  Jacksonville  is  about 
1800,  exclusive  of  the  students.” — [Peck’s  Illinois  Gazetteer. 
Published  by  R.  Goudy,  Jacksonville,  1834.] 


Note  F.—Page  74. 

Mr.  Schoolcraft  observes,  that  it  is  common  in  digging  at  the 
salt-mines  of  Illinois  to  find  fragments  of  antique  pottery,  and  even 
entire  pots  of  coarse  earthenware,  at  great  depths  below  the  sur- 
face. One  of  these  pots,  which  was,  until  a very  recent  period, 
preserved  by  a gentleman  at  Shawneetown,  was  disinterred  at  the 
depth  of  eighty  feet,  and  was  of  a capacity  to  contain  eight  or  ten 
gallons.  Others  have  been  found  at  even  greater  depths,  and  of 
greater  dimensions.  The  composition  and  general  appearance  of 
this  fossil  pottery,  according  to  Mr.  S.,  cannot  be  distinguished 
from  those  fragments  of  earthenware  which  are  disclosed  by  the 
mounds  of  the  oldest  period,  so  common  in  this  quarter.  They 
evince  the  same  rude  state  of  the  arts.  Upon  referring  to  School- 


NOTES. 


267 


-craft’s  Travels  in  the  central  portions  of  the  Mississippi  Valley,  the 
reader  will* find  some  curious  speculations  suggested  by  the  position 
in  which  these  antique  vessels  are  found. 

. -\ 

Note  G. — Page  84. 

The  gravity  of  manner  and  stern  dignity  of  deportment  main- 
tained by  the  Indians  in  their  official  intercourse  with  the  white 
men,  led  the  early  writers,  as  is  remarked  by  Mr.  Schoolcraft,  to 
conclude  that  they  were  strangers  to  those  lighter  emotions  which 
display  themselves  in  occasional  sallies  of  wit  and  humour.  The 
haughty  reserve  which  an  Indian  always  maintains  when  in  com- 
pany with  several  white  men,  and  especially  when  he  visits  our 
eastern  cities,  has  served  to  confirm  the  error.  There  is  no  greater 
observer  of  time  and  place  than  an  Indian ; and  indeed  his  whole 
education  consists,  not  in  extinguishing  his  emotions,  but  in  regu- 
lating their  display  according  to  his  views  of  decorum.  I have  seen 
the  same  savage,  whose  grim  features  never  relaxed  into  a smile 
while  receiving  me  as  the  chief  of  his  band  and  doing  the  honours  of 
his  camp,  laugh  immoderately  because  he  nearly  met  with  the 
fate  of  Absalom,  by  catching  his  scalp-lock  on  a burr-oak,  as  we 
afterward  rode  through  a grove  along  together.  “ No  person,”  says 
the  writer  above  quoted,  “ has  enjoyed  frequent  opportunities  of  ob- 
serving the  Indian  character,  as  it  appears  in  the  social  scenes  of 
ordinary  life,  without  observing  that  they  possess  a strong  relish  for 
witticism,  and  evince  a propensity  to  indulge  in  ridicule,  drollery, 
and  sarcasm.  In  fact,  no  two  persons  can  be  more  unlike  than  the 
orator,  in  all  the  stiff*  formality  of  a public  council,  and  the  same  per- 
son in  the  relaxed  circle  of  his  family  lodge,  or  when  seated  as  a 
spectator  of  the  village  sports.” 

The  following  testimony  to  the  same  effect  is  from  Long’s 
Second  Expedition  : — “ In  their  conversation  the  Indians  frequently 
display  considerable  humour ; their  attempts  at  wit  are  numerous, 
and  often  successful.” 

The  majority  of  writers  upon  Indian  oharacter  have  erred,  we 
apprehend,  in  ascribing  the  peculiar  traits  of  one  great  commuinty  of 
Indians  to  the  savages  of  a whole  continent.  It  was  among  “ The 
Five  Nations”  of  New  York — the  Ougue-honcoe)  or  “men  who 
surpass  all  others,”  as  they  called  themselves,  that  the  stoical  origi- 
nals of  the  Indians  of  poetical  fiction  were  found.  This  Spartan 
like  race,  whose  warriors,  collecting  in  their  head-quarters  at  Onon- 
dago,  carried  their  arms  a thousand  miles  away,  alike  to  the 


268 


APPENDIX. 


swamps  of  Carolina,  the  prairies  of  Indiana,  and  the  forests  of 
Maine,  are  described  by  La  Houton,  who  was  on  the  * Wisconsan 
and  the  Missouri  as  long  ago  as  1688,  as  a very  different  people 
from  the  lake  and  prairie  tribes  he  was  then  visiting ; and  Colden’s 
history,  written  at  a later  day,  confirms  the  observations  of  the 
French  Traveller. 

Note  H. — Page  82. 

Carver  says,  when  speaking  of  the  religion  of  the  tribes  which 
he  visited,  “ It  is  certain  that  they  acknowledge  one  Supreme  Being, 
or  Giver  of  Life,  who  presides  over  all  things.”  The  testimony  of 
the  captive  Colonel  Smith,  as  quoted  from  his  narrative  in  note  E. 
vol.  i.  is  to  the  same  effect ; and  the  evidence  of  Penn,  at  a much 
earlier  day,  is  recorded  in  the  text. 

“ All  the  tribes,”  says  Mr.  Thatcher,  in  one  of  those  excellent 
little  works  upon  Indian  character  recently  published,*  £{  believe 
in  the  existence  of  a Suprejne  Being,  the  Creator  of  the  World,  to 
whom  different  names  are  given ; as  the  ‘ Great  Spirit,’  or  the 
‘ Master  of  Life.’”  There  being  no  such  thing  as  sects  or  schools 
of  religion  among  the  Indians,  this  belief  will  be  found  mixed  up 
with  many  singular  ideas  in  the  minds  of  different  individuals,  ac- 
cording to  their  independence  of  thought  or  the  accidents  of  edu- 
cation— their  intercourse  with  the  whites,  or  their  natural  tempera- 
ment. Many  of  these  believe  in  local  deities,  personsal  divinities, 
and  innumerable  spirits  of  good  and  evil ; but  the  Manilla  of  the 
Indians  of  the  lakes,  the  Owaneeyo  of  the  forest  tribes,  and  the 
Wahcondah  of  the  savages  that  rove  the  prairies,  appear  to  be  re- 
garded alike  by  all  as  the  first  Great  Cause,  the  sole  Creator. 
“ Metea,  a Pottawattomie  Indian,  while  conversing  on  this  subject 
with  the  gentlemen  of  Long’s  Expedition,  recorded  his  belief  that 
there  is  but  one  God,  who  is  a Supreme  Being;  but  that  he  has 
made  a spirit  or  god  to  be  under  him,  whose  especial  duty  it  is  to 
take  charge  of  the  Indians.  This  he  thought  to  be  the  common 
opinion  of  all  the  Indians  whom  he  knew.  The  existence  of  a Bad 
Spirit  he  considered  as  proved  by  the  circumstance  of  there  being 
bad  men ; for  a good  spirit  could  not  have  made  anything  that  was 
evil.” — Long's  Second  Expedition , p.  109. 

Wennebea,  a chief  of  the  Sauk  tribe,  who  was  in  the  suite  of 
Major  Long,  believed  the  sun  to  be  the  residence  of  a male  deity, 

* Indian  Biography,  by  B.  B.  Thatcher,  Esq.,  2 vols.  l8mo.  Indian 
Traits,  2 vols.  18mo.  Harpers,  New- York. 


NOTES* 


269 


who  looks  placidly  upon  the  earth ; and  who,  being  propitious  to 
man,  exposes  to  his  view  the  wild  beasts  and  serpents  which  cross 
his  path.  “ He  thought  that  immediately  after  death  the  soul  quits 
its  mortal  residence,  and  journeys  toward  the  setting  sun,  when,  if 
its  life  has  been  spent  in  a manner  agreeable  to  the  Deity,  it  finds 
no  difficulty  in  stepping  over  the  agitated  log  which  stretches  across 
the  gulf.  It  then  becomes  an  eternal  inhabitant  of  ‘ The  Village  of 
the  Dead,’  situated  in  a prairie  that  abounds  in  all  the  pleasures  which 
the  simple  imagination  of  the  Indian  can  covet.  The  moon,  on  the 
contrary,  he  held  to  be  an  adverse  female  deity,  whose  delight  it  is 
to  cross  man  in  all  his  pursuits.” — Ibid,  p 210. 

“ The  Dacotahs  believe  in  the  existence  of  a Supreme  Being, 
and  of  a number  of  subordinate  ones,  whose  powers,  privileges,  and 
attributes  vary  very  much.  They  worship  the  Great  Spirit  as  the 
Creator  of  all  things  that  exist,  and  as  the  Ruler  and  Disposer  of  the 
universe.  They  hold  him  to  be  the  source  of  all  good,  and  the  cause 
of  no  evil- whatever.  The  Dacotahs  admit  that  there  are  in  man 
two  distinct  essences,  to  which  they  respectively  apply  the  terms  of 
wanare  and  wahkan,  which  Major  Long’s  interpreters  translated 
soul  and  spirit.  They  believe  that  after  death  the  souls  go  to  the 
Wenare  Tebe,  or  dwelling-place  of  souls,  where  their  life  is  an  easy 
and  a blissful  one ; they  hunt  the  buffalo,  plant  corn,  &c.” — Ibid, 
pages  392,  3. 

But  it  is  useless  to  cite  authorities  upon  this  subject,  when  the 
concurrent  testimony  of  almost  all  intelligent  writers  is  to  the  same 
effect. — See  Heckwelder , Colden's  History  of  the  Five  Nations , 
&c. 

Note  I. — Page  100. 

The  new  work  of  Mr.  Schoolcraft,*  which  appeared  in  the  au- 
tumn, is  the  first  publication  that  has  established  the  true  sources 
of  the  Mississippi.  The  expedition  of  which  he  was  the  head  was 
nominally  undertaken  by  virtue  of  an  act  of  Congress  to  vaccinate 
the  north-western  Indians  within  our  territories,  and  is  the  third 
national  attempt  that  has  been  made  to  arrive  at  the  true  sources  of 
the  Mississippi, — General  Pike’s  being  the  first,  and  a movement  in 
that  direction  by  Governor  Cass,  with  an  exploring  party,  the  se- 
cond. An  eccentric  Italian,  of  whom  some  laughable  stories  are 

* Narrative  of  an  Expedition  through  the  Upper  Mississippi  to  the 
Itasca  Lake,  the  actual  source  of  this  river : by  Henry  R.  Schoolcraft. 
New-York;  Harpers. 


270 


APPENDIX. 


told  on  the  frontier,  has,  in  the  mean  time,  most  absurdly  claimed, 
in  a book  published  abroad,  to  be  the  true  discoverer  of  the  fountain- 
head. Lac  La  Biche,  or  Itasca  Lake,  as  Mr.  Schoolcraft  more 
euphoniously  calls  it,  has  been  long  known  to  the  Indian  traders ; 
but  its  position  has  always  been  laid  down  erroneously  upon  the 
map  ; and  it  is  now  found  that  the  Mississippi,  after  long  running  to 
the  north  till  it  reaches  a high  latitude,  and  diffuses  itself  in  a hundred 
swamps  and  lakes,  becomes  again  a distinct  stream;  and  taking  a 
sudden  dip  to  the  south,  hides  its  head  at  last  in  a lake  of  clear 
water,  somewhere  about  the  latitude  of  Fond  du  Lac,  on  Lake 
Superior.  Mr.  Schoolcraft  was  accompanied  on  this  exploring  tour 
by  Lieutenant  James  Allen,  of  the  Fifth  Infantry,  from  whose 
official  report  to  the  Secretary  of  War  the  following  account  of  the 
sources  of  the  Mississippi ts  taken. 

“We  entered  the  Mississippi  from  a bay  on  the  west  side  of 
Cass  Lake,  and  passed,  in  a short  distance,  through  two  small  lakes 
and  a savanna,  above  all  of  which  we  still  found  a large  river,  forty 
or  fifty  yards  broad,  and  from  two  to  six  feet  deep,  which  wound  its 
way  through  a narrow  valley  of  low  alluvial  bottom,  confined  by 
pine  hills,  up  to  Lac  Travers,  forty  miles  above  Cass  Lake.  In 
this  distance  there  are  many  rapids,  running  over  boulders  of  primi- 
tive rock  ; but  there  is  no  fall,  and  no  rock  is  seen  in  place. 

“ Lac  Travers  may  well  be  arranged  among  the  sources  of  the 
Mississippi.  It  is  a beautiful  lake,  about  ten  miles  long  from  north 
to  south,  and  about  half  as  broad,  surrounded  by  pine  woods,  which 
rise  into  high  hills  on  the  north  and  north-west,  forming  a part  of  the 
chain  dividing  the  waters  of  the  Mississippi  from  those  of  Red 
River.  The  western  shore  is  much  indented  with  bays,  but  the 
east  and  south-east  is  beautifully  regular  and  plain,  with  a sandy 
bank,  and  beach  of  pure  white  sand.  The  river  empties  into  the 
south  end  of  the  lake,  and  runs  out  at  the  east  side,  not  far  from  its 
entrance,  leaving  the  great  body  of  the  lake  to  the  north  of  our 
passage  through  it.  There  is  a trading  house  on  the  west  bank, 
near  the  mouth  of  the  river,  which  is  occupied  in  winter  by  a clerk 
of  Mr.  Aitkin.  From  Lake  Travers  we  passed  by  a broad  channel, 
one  hundred  yards  long,  into  another  small  lake,  and,  half  a mile 
above  this,  came  to  • the  forks  of  the  river.  The  branches  are  of 
nearly  the  same  breadth,  about  forty  feet,  but  the  stronger  current 
of  the  right  hand  branch  denoted  it  much  the  larger.  We  as- 
cended the  left  or  east  branch,  as  we  had  intended,  which  soon  nar- 
rowed to  twenty  feet  breadth,  and  in  a distance  of  ten  or  twelve 


NOTES. 


271 


miles  brought  us  to  Lake  Rahbahkanna,  or  Resting  Lake ; a pretty 
little  lake,  four  miles  in  diameter,  and  nearly  round,  with  a low 
beach  of  smooth  pebbles  all  round  it.  We  encamped  a few  miles 
above  this  lake  at  seven  P.  M.,  having  come  this  day,  by  my  esti- 
mate, fifty-five  miles.  Our  course  to  Lac  Travers  was  north-west; 
from  the  latter,  nearly  south. 

“July  12. — This  was  a rainy,  disagreeable  day,  and  the  mos- 
chetoes  were  numerous,  hungry,  and  extremely  annoying  ; but  we 
travelled,  notwithstanding,  at  our  usual  speedy  rate.  Our  course 
has  been  south,  and  the  valley  of  the  river  was  savanne,  and  tamrack, 
and  cedar  swamp;  but  generally  narrow,  about  half  a mile  broad, 
with  low  ridges  and  a miserable  growth  of  pine  bordering  it  on  both 
sides.  The  river  has  become  very  small,  and  somewhat  rapid;  and 
we  have  encamped  after  making  a portage  of  two  miles  round  a 
chain  of  rapids.  One  of  our  Indians  killed  a deer  this  morning, 
and  we  saw  many  more  during  the  day.  This  country  is  so  very 
remote  and  dreary  that  the  Indians  seldom  visit  it,  and  the  deer  are 
more  abundant  than  about  the  river  below ; ducks  are  also  very 
numerous  in  the  savannes  where  there  is  wild  rice.  Journey  fifty- 
two  miles. 

“July  13. — We  ascended  the  river  in  our  canoes  ten  miles  far- 
ther, to  a little  lake  (Usaw-way,  or  Perch  Lake),  about  two  miles 
long  and  half  a mile  broad  : the  river  was  very  narrow  and  crooked, 
through  a low,  narrow  meadow,  and  a little  above  this  lake  we  left 
it ; seeing  that  we  had  now  traced  this  smaller  branch  of  the  Mis * 
sissippi  into  the  very  swamps  and  meadows  from  the  drainage  of 
which  it  takes  its  rise. 

“ From  here  we  set  off  over  land,  in  a south-west  direction,  to 
reach  Lac  La  Biche,  represented  as  the  source  of  the  larger  branch. 
Our  canoes  and  baggage  being  very  light,  all  was  transported  at  one 
load,  one  man  carrying  the  canoe,  and  the  other  the  baggage  of 
each  of  the  party.  In  this  way  we  made  a portage  of  six  miles  in 
four  hours,  and  struck  the  lake,  the  object  of  our  search,  near  the 
end  of  its  south-eastern  bay.  The  first  mile  of  the  portage  was 
through  a tamrack  swamp,  and  the  remainder,  excepting  a little 
lake  of  three  hundred  yards  diameter,  wras  over  pine  ridges  of  the 
poorest  character  imaginable.  The  soil  was  almost  pure  sand,  and 
the  pine  was  stinted  and  mostly  of  the  scrub  species  (Finns  Bank - 
sianus),  which,  hung  as  it  was  with  lichens,  and  no  other  growth, 
not  even  a bush  or  shrub,  mixed  with  it,  presented  a picture  of 
landscape  more  dismal  and  gloomy  than  any  other  part  of  this 


272 


APPENDIX. 


miserably  poor  country  that  we  had  seen.  Not  a bird  or  animal, 
scarce  even  a fly,  was  to  be  seen  in  the  whole  distance  of  this  port- 
age, and  it  would  seem  that  no  kind  of  animal  life  was  adapted  to  so 
gloomy  a region. 

“ From  these  hills,  which  were  seldom  more  than  two  or  three 
hundred  feet  high,  we  came  suddenly  down  to  the  lake ; and  we 
embarked  and  passed  nearly  through  it  to  an  island,  near  its  west 
end,  where  we  remained  one  or  two  hours. 

“We  were  now  sure  that  we  had  reached  the  true  source  of  the 
great  river,  and  a feeling  of  great  satisfaction  was  manifested  by  all 
the  party ; Mr.  Schoolcraft  hoisted  a flag  on  a high  staff  on  the 
island,  and  left  it  flying. 

“ Lac  La  Biche  is  about  seven  miles  long,  and  from  one  to  three 
broad ; but  is  of  an  irregular  shape,  conforming  to  the  bases  of  pine 
hills,  which,  for  a great  part  of  its  circumference,  rise  abruptly  from 
its  shore.  It  is  deep,  and  very  clear  and  cold,  and  seemed  to  be  well 
stocked  with  fish.  Its  shores  show  some  boulders  of  primitive  rock, 
but  no  rock  in  place,  and  are  generally  skirted  near  the  water  with 
bushes.  The  island,  the  only  one  of  the  lake,  and  which  I have 
called  Schoolcraft  island,  is  one  hundred  and  fifty  yards  long,  fifty 
yards  broad,  and  twenty  or  thirty  feet  elevated  in  its  highest  part; 
a little  rocky  in  boulders,  and  grown  over  in  pine,  spruce,  wild 
cherry,  and  elm. 

“ There  can  be  no  doubt  but  that  this  is  the  true  source  and 
fountain  of  the  longest  and  largest  branch  of  the  Mississippi.  All 
our  information  that  we  had  been  able  to  collect  on  the  way,  from 
traders  and  Indians,  pointed  to  it  as  such ; and  our  principal  Indian 
guide,  Yellow  Head,  who  has  proved  to  us  his  close  intelligence  of 
the  country,  represents  the  same.  He  has  formerly  hunted  all 
around  it,  and  says  there  is  a little  creek,  too  small  for  even  our 
little  canoes  to  ascend,  emptying  into  the  south  bay  of  this  lake,  and 
having  its  source  at  the  base  of  a chain  of  high  hills,  which  we 
could  see,  not  two  miles  off,  and  that  this  is  the  only  stream  of  any 
description  running  into  it.  In  fact,  the  whole  country  showed  that 
there  was  no  stream  beyond,  for  the  lake  was  shut  in  on  all  sides 
by  pine  hills,  and  the  only  opening  through  them  was  that  by 
which  it  discharged  itself.  To  the  west  we  could  see  distinctly  a 
range  of  almost  mountains,  covered  with  pine,  which  was  un- 
doubtedly the  chain  dividing  us  from  the  waters  of  Red  River. 

“ Lac  La  Biche  is  but  little  west  of  south  from  Cass  Lake,  and 
almost  due  south  from  Lac  Travers,  which  is  a different  position 


NOTES. 


273 


from  that  assigned  to  it  on  published  maps,  where  it  is  invariably 
represented  north  of  Cass  Lake.  There  is,  however,  a little  stream, 
Turtle  River,  entering  Cass  Lake  from  the  north,  in  the  route  of 
traders  to  T urtle  Lake  and  Red  Lake,  but  it  is  a very  small  and  in- 
significant stream,  and  is  only  forty-five  miles  in  length. 

u We  left  Lac  La  Biche  from  its  northern  bay,  having  coasted 
nearly  its  whole  circumference,  and  found  the  Mississippi,  at  its 
very  egress  from  the  lake,  a respectable  stream ; its  channel  being 
twenty  feet  broad  and  two  feet  deep,  and  current  five  miles  per 
hour.  Its  course  was  north-west,  and  soon  ran  through  a chain  of 
high  pine  hills,  where  the  channel  contracted  very  much,  and  nu- 
merous rapids  occurred,  of  very  great  fall,  over  boulders  of  primitive 
rock  : the  river  running,  for  the  distance,  in  a deep  ravine.” 

Note  I. — Page  128. 

Lexington,  which  was  for  a long  time  the  political  metropolis  of 
Kentucky ] and  the  most  important  town  in  the  west,  received  its 
name  from  a band  of  hunters  who  were  encamped  under  the  shade 
of  the  original  forest  where  it  is  built,  and  who,  on  receiving  the 
first  intelligence  of  the  battle  of  Lexington  in  Massachusetts,  named 
the  town  after  that  in  which  commenced  the  great  struggle  of 
American  Independence.  Transylvania  University,  says  Mr.  Flint, 
has  fair  claims  to  precedence  among  western  collegiate  institutions. 
It  has  twelve  professors  and  tutors,  and  in  the  academical,  medical, 
and  law  classes,  three  hundred  and  seventy-six  students.  The 
public  buildings  of  Lexington  are  generally  in  very  good  taste,  and, 
in  the  words  of  Mr.  Flint,  “ the  stranger,  in  the  midst  of  its  polished 
and  interesting  society,  cannot  but  be  carried  back  by  strong  con- 
trast to  the  time  when  the  patriarchal  hunters  of  Kentucky,  reclining 
on  their  buffalo  robes  around  their  evening  fires,  canopied  by  the 
lofty  trees  and  the  stars,  gave  it  the  name  it  bears  by  patriotic  accla- 
mation.”— Flint’s  Valley  of  the  Mississippi. 

Note  K. — Page  136. 

The  particulars  of  this  tragic  tale  of  passion,  as  set  forth  in  the 
published  “ Confession”  of  the  principal  actor,  and  established  by 
the  report  of  4 The  Trial  of  J.  O.  Beauchamp  for  the  Murder  of 
Colonel  S.  P.  Sharp,  a Member  of  the  Legislature,  and  late  Attor- 
ney-general of  Kentucky,”  are  as  follows : — Beauchamp,  while  a 
student  at  law  in  a county  town  of  Kentucky,  became  attached  to 
Miss  Cook,  a young  female  who  had  been  seduced  by  Colonel 

YOL.  II. — A a 


274 


APPENDIX. 


Sharp.  The  lady,  in  consequence  of  the  stain  upon  her  reputation, 
lived  very  much  retired,  and  refused  to  receive  the  addresses  of  her 
new  admirer  until  he  had  repeatedly  tendered  his  hand  in  marriage. 
His  solicitations  at  last  prevailed  with  her ; but  she  consented  to  be- 
come his  wife  solely  upon  the  condition,  that  he  would  revenge  her 
wrongs  towards  Colonel  S.  by  taking  his  life  before  they  were 
united  at  the  altar.  The  infatuated  student  pledged  himself  to  the 
bloody  contract;  and  instantly  challenged  the  seducer,  who  refused 
to  meet  him.  Failing  in  the  vengeance  to  which  he  had  pledged 
himself  in  the  hour  of  his  wild  betrothal,  Beauchamp  returned  to 
his  affianced  wife  ; who  from  that  moment,  as  he-  expresses  it,  got 
the  “ womanish  whim”  into  her  head  to  be  herself  the  destroyer  of 
her  seducer.  To  this  end  she  practised  pistol-shooting  for  several 
months,  until,  as  her  lover  avers,  “ she  could  place  a ball  with  per- 
fect accuracy.”  But  their  engagement  having  now  subsisted  for 
some  time,  and  Beauchamp  having  completed  his  law  studies,  he 
prevailed  upon  the  lady  to  give  him  the  rights  of  a legal  protector. 
“I  had  now,”  he  says,  “married  Miss  Cook,  and  felt  that  I had  a 
sufficient  apology  before  the  world  to  revenge  upon  Colonel  Sharp 
the  injury  he  had  done  her.  Neither  could  I any  longer  think  of 
the  wild  idea  of  my  wife’s  revenging  her  own  wrongs.” 

He  seems  to  have  made  up  his  mind,  however,  to  seek  Colonel  S. 
no  more,  but  only  to  “bide  his  time,”  and  sacrifice  his  victim  when 
chance  should  throw  him  in  his  way.  More  than  a year  must  now 
have  elapsed,  and  the  vow  of  vengeance  was  unfulfilled,  when  a 
report  reached  Beauchamp’s  ears,  which,  if  it  had  any  foundation 
at  all,  was  enough  of  itself  to  fill  a far  better  regulated  mind  than 
his  with  the  most  deadly  purpose.  Parties  were  running  high  in 
Kentucky,*  and  Colonel  S.  was  a candidate  for  office.  His  cha- 
racter, with  those  of  others,  was  assailed  with  all  the  virulence  of 
the  period.  The  newspapers  were  rife  with  personal  calumny,  and 
among  other  charges,  that  of  the  seduction  of  Miss  C.  was  trum- 
peted to  the  World.  His  friends  were  not  less  on  the  alert  to  shield 
his  name.  In  such  a phrensied  state  of  the  public  mind  men  stop 
at  nothing,  and  a hellish  rumour  got  abroad  which  reached  at  length 
the  ears  of  Beauchamp.  Some  one  wrote  to  him  “ that  S.  had  set 
afloat  insinuations  that  the  illicit  offspring  of  the  female  to  whom  he 
was  now  married  was  a mulatto;  and  this  in  order  to  do  away  the 
charge  against  the  Colonel  for  seduction.” 

“I  had  now,”  says  the  confession,  “meditated  upon  Colonel  S.’s 
death  so  long,  that  I was  perfectly  able  to  make  dispassionate  ealeu- 


NOTES. 


275 


lations  and  weigh  probable  consequences  with  as  much  calmness  as 
would  determine  an  ordinary  matter  of  business.  I did  not  kill 
Colonel  S.  through  the  phrensy  of  passion:  I did  it  with  the  fullest 
and  most  mature  deliberation ; because  the  clearest  dictates  of  my 
judgment  told  me  that  I ought  to  do  it — and  I still  think  so.  But 
after  I had  gotten  this  information,  I did  resolve  to  kill  Colonel 
Sharp  publicly  in  Frankfort.”  Upon  subsequent  consultation  with 
his  wife,  however,  he  determined  to  accomplish  his  purpose  by  se- 
cret assassination.  The  catastrophe  is  best  told  in  Beauchamp’s 
own  words.  He  resorts  to  Frankfort,  and  lurks  in  disguise  after 
nightfall  around  the  dwelling  of  his  victim.  He  sees  him  enter, 
and  he  withdraws  to  the  public  square  opposite,  till  the  streets  are 
still  and  the  lights  about  the  houses  extinguished . The  casements 
are  at  length  darkened  ; but  his  purpose  is  yet  delayed  by  some  late 
revellers  that  cross  his  path.  He  hears  their  last  retiring  footfalls, 
and  then  moves  from  his  lurking-place. 

“ There  was  no  moonlight ; but  the  stars  gave  light  enough 
wherewithal  to  discern  the  face  of  an  acquaintance,  on  coming  near 
him  and  closely  noticing  his  face.  I drew  my  dagger,  and  pro- 
ceeded to  the  door : I knocked  three  times,  loud  and  quick ! Colonel 
Sharp  said,  1 Who’s  there  V — 1 Covington,’  I replied,  duickly 
Colonel  Sharp’s  foot  was  heard  upon  the  floor.  I saw  under  the 
door  he  approached  without  a light.  I drew  my  mask  from  my  face, 
and  immediately  Colonel  Sharp  opened  the  door ; I advanced  into 
the  room,  and  with  my  left  hand  I grasped  his  right  wrist,  as  with 
an  iron  hand.  The  violence  of  the  grasp  made  Colonel  • Sharp 
spring  back,  and  trying  to  disengage  his  wrist,  he  said,  * What 
Covington  is  this  7’  I replied,  ‘John  A.  Covington,  sir.’ — £I  don’t 
know  you,’  said  Colonel  Sharp.  ‘ 1 knew  John  W.  Covington.’ — 
1 My  name,’  said  I,  ‘ is  John  A.  Covington;’  and  about  the  time  I 
said  that,  Mrs.  Sharp,  whom  I had  seen  appear  in  the  partition 
door  as  I entered  the  outer  door,  disappeared. 

She  had  become  alarmed,  I imagine,  by  the  little  scuffle  Colonel 
Sharp  made  when  he  sprang  back  to  get  his  wrist  loose  from  my 
grasp.  Seeing  her  disappear,  I said  to  Colonel  Sharp,  in  a tone  as 
though  I was  deeply  mortified  at  his  not  knowing  me,  1 And  did 
you  not  know  me,  sure  enough  'V — * Not  with  your  handkerchief 
about  your  face,’  said  Colonel  Sharp ; for  the  handkerchief  with 
which  I had  confined  my  mask  upon  my  forehead  was  still  round 
my  forehead.  I then  replied,  in  a soft,  conciliating,  persuasive  tone 
of  voice,  { Come  to  the  light,  Colonel,  and  you  will  know  me ;’  and 


27  6 


APPENDIX. 


pulling  him  by  the  arm,  he  came  readily  to  the  door.  I stepped 
with  one  foot  back  upon  the  first  step  out  at  the  door,  and  still  hold- 
ing his  wrist  with  my  left  hand,  I stripped  my  hat  and  handker- 
chief from  over  my  forehead  and  head,  and  looked  right  up  in 
Colonel  Sharp’s  face.  He  knew  me  the  more  readily,  I imagine,  by 
my  long,  bushy,  curly  suit  of  hair.  He  sprang  back,  and  exclaim- 
ed, in  the  deepest  tone  of  astonishment,  dismay,  and  horror  and 
despair  I ever  heard,  c Great  God  ! it’s  him !’  and  as  he  said  that  he 
fell  on  his  knees,  after  failing  to  jerk  loose  his  wrist  from  my  grasp. 
As  he  fell  on  his  knees  I let  go  his  wrist  and  grasped  him  by  the 
throat,  and  dashing  him  against  the  facing  of  the  door,  I choked  him 
against  it  to  keep  him  from  hallooing,  and  muttered  in  his  face, 
£ Die,  you  villain  !’  and  as  I said  that,  I plunged  the  dagger  to  his 
heart.  Letting  him  go  at  the  moment  I stabbed  him,  he  sprang  up 
from  his  knees,  and  endeavoured  to  throw  his  arms  round  my  neck, 
saying,  £ Pray,  Mr.  Beauchamp !’  but  as  he  said  that,  I struck  him 
in  the  face  with  my  left  hand,  and  knocked  him  his  full  length  into 
the  room.  By  this  time  I saw  the  light  approaching,  and  dashed  a 
little  way  off  and  put  on  my  mask.  I then  came  and  squatted  in 
the  alley  near  the  door,  to  hear  if  he  should  speak.  His  wife  talked 
to  him,  but  he  could  not  answer  her. 

“ Before  I thought  they  could  possibly  have  gotten  word  to  the 
doctor,  he«came  running  in.  So  soon  as  he  entered  the  room  he 
exclaimed,  * Great  God  ! Beauchamp  has  done  this ! I always 
expected  it !’  The  town  was  now  alarmed,  and  the  people  began 
to  crowd  the  house  very  fast.”  • 

The  homicide  then  retired  to  the  river’s  bank,  where  he  changed 
his  dress;  and  proceeding  to  his  lodgings,  he  waited  till  after 
breakfast  the  next  morning  before  he  took  his  horse  and  rode 
homeward  ; where  his  wife  received  him  with  open  arms,  and  aided 
<(  in  setting  the  house  in  order  for  battle  and  defence,”  should  the 
friends  of  the  murdered  man  make  a family  feud  of  it.  The  regular 
officers  of  justice  were  the  first  persons,  however,  who  presented 
themselves.;  and  Beauchamp  readily  surrendered  himself  to  these, 
and  being  conducted  back  to  Frankfort,  he  was  thrown  into  prison 
to  await  his  trial. 

Beauchamp  appears  to  have  been  convicted  of  the  murder  upon 
the  most  ample  circumstantial  evidence ; though  he  himself  says 
in  his  confession  that  there  was  no  actual  testimony, — that  the 
whole  charge  was  based  on  suspicion,  and  that  that  suspicion 
attached  to  him,  “ merely  because  there  was  a feeling  in  the  breast 
of  every  man  which  told  him  I (he)  ought  to  have  killed  Colonel 


NOTES. 


277 


Sharp.  The  plain,  candid,  common-sense  sort  of  people  thought 
me  guilty,  although  they  had  no  sort  of  proof  even  to  raise  a 
suspicion,  only  looking  to  the  motive,  and  justification,  or  cause, 
which  I had  to  kill  him.”  The  condition  of  his  mind,  after  being 
thrown  into  prison,  may  in  some  degree  be  judged  from  the  follow- 
ing lines,  which  he  is  said  to  have  addressed  to  his  wife  from 
within  its  walls,  and  which  have  been  published  as  genuine  : — 

“ Daughter  of  grief!  thy  spirit  moves 
In  every  whistling  wind  that  roves 
Across  my  prison  gates  : 

It  bids  my  soul  majestic  bear  ! 

And  with  its  sister  spirit  soar 
Aloft  to  heaven’s  gates. 

“ In  visions  bright  it  hovers  round, 

And  whispers  the  delightful  sound, 
c Peace  to  thy  troubled  mind. 

What  though  unfeeling  worlds  unite 
To  vent  on  you  their  venom’d  spite, 

Thy  Anna’s  heart  is  kind.’ 

“ Then  rave,  ye  angry  storms  of  fate  l 
Spit  on  your  vilest  blasts  of  hate, 

Ye  perjured  reptile  worms  ! 

Disdaining  aught  to  yield,  my  soul 
Shall  gladly  fly  this  earthly  goal, 

Safe  to  my  Anna’s  arms. 

“ For — oh ! the  thought ! — triumphant,  proud, 

The  soul  within  itself  can  shroud 
The  purpose  of  the  brave; 

Secure  of  her,  the  dear  one’s  love, 

For  whom  he  dies  and  m6unts  above 
Misfortune’s  highest  wave  !” 

After  conviction,  Mrs.  Beauchamp  was  allowed  to  remain  with 
her  husband  ; and  the  last  moments  of  this  infatuated  and  ill-fated 
pair  were  marked  by  the  same  strange  intermixture  of  moral 
obliquity  and  religious  fanaticism,  blended  with  chivalric  heroism 
and  the  most  touching  devotion  to  each  other,  by  which  their  in- 
tercourse throughout  appears  to  have  been  characterized.  They 
passed  their  time  together  in  composing  prayers  and  verses.  The 
first  breathed  all  of  Christian  humility  and  contrition,  mingled 

a a 2 


278 


APPENDIX. 


with  a firm  reliance  upon  heavenly  mercy ; the  last  are  made  up 
of  the  ravings  of  insane  passion  and  gratified  vengeance.  At 
length,  as  the  day  of  execution  approached,  they  determined  to 
commit  suicide;  and  Beauchamp  describes  their  situation  in  a 
memorandum  to  this  effect. — 

i(  I have  now  arranged  all  my  papers,  and  closed  everything  pre- 
paratory to  quitting  this  scene  of  action.  My  beloved  wife — for 
whom,  O how  my  soul  now  melts  in  affection ! — is  preparing  to  lie 
down  with  me  to  sleep,  and  wake  no  more.  Our  spirits  will,  in  a 
few  moments,  leave  these  bodies,  and  wing  their  way  to  the  unknown 
abode  which  our  God  may  assign  them  ! 

“ We  have  a vial  of  laudanum,  which  my  wife,  with  as  much  com- 
posure as  she  ever  shared  with  me  a glass  of  wine,  is  carefully  di- 
viding into  equal  portions,  one  for  each  of  us. 

“ I mark  her  serene  aspect ! I should  be  lost  in  amazement  and 
astonishment  at  her  strength  of  mind,  which  can  enable  her  so  com- 
posedly to  meet  death,  did  I not  find  in  my  own  feelings  that  resig- 
nation, nay,  joy,  which  makes  Death,  so  far  from  being  the  * King 
of  terrors, ’ become  the  c Prince  of  peace.’ 

“We  have  kneeled  to  the  Omnipotent  and  Omniscient  God,  the 
Creator  and  Mover  of  all  minds,  so  to  direct,  inspire,  and  influence 
our  minds,  that  in  all  things  we  may  discern  what  it  is  his  will  we 
should  do,  and  we  would  endeavour  to  do  it.  And  we  pray  to  him 
with  humility  and  sincerity,  that  if  in  any  thing  we  do  that  which 
is  contrary  to  his  will,  he  would  pardon  his  weak  and  erring 
creatures.” 

On  the  back  of  the  paper  which  contained  this  singular  record  of 
the  dying  lovers,  the  following  directions  for  their  burial  were 
inscribed : — 

“ We  do  not  wish  our  faces  uncovered  after  we  are  shrouded,  par- 
ticularly after  we  are  removed  to  Bloomfield.  We  wish  to  be  placed 
with  my  wife’s  head  on  my  right  arm,  and  that  confined  round  upon 
her  bosom.” 

This  note  was  signed  by  Beauchamp,  and  these  lines  were  meant 
to  accompany  it.  They  are  entitled  an  “ Epitaph  to  be  engraven 
on  the  tombstone  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Beauchamp.  Written  by  Mrs. 
Beauchamp.” 

u Entomb’d  within  each  other’s  arms, 

The  husband  and  the  wife  repose ; 

Safe  from  life’s  never  ending  storms, 

And  safe  from  all  their  cruel  foes. 


NOTES. 


279 


" A child  of  evil  fate  she  lived, 

A villain’s  wiles  her  peace  had  cross’d, 

The  husband  of  her  heart  revived 
The  happiness  she  long  had  lost. 

u Daughter  of  virtue ! moist  thy  tear,. 

This  tomb  of  love  and  honour  claim; 

For  thy  defence  the  husband  here 

Laid  down  in  youth  his  life  and  fame. 

“ His  wife  disdained  a life  forlorn, 

Without  her  heart’s  lov’d,  honour’d  lord ; 

Then,  reader,  here  their  fortunes  mourn, 

Who  for  their  love  their  life-blood  pour’d.” 

A postscript  was  added  to  this  effect : — 

u Thursday  night , 10  o’clock , July  6th , 1826. 
u After  we  had  taken  the  laudanum  last  night,  at  about  twelve 
o’clock,  we  remained  on  our  knees  some  hours,  at  prayer,  and  then 
lay  down  and  placed  our  bodies  in  the  fond  embrace  in  which  we 
wish  them  interred.  My  wife  laid  her  head  on  my  right  arm,  with 
which  I encircled  her  body,  and  tied  my  right  hand  to  her  left  upon 
her  bosom.  We  also,  as  we  lay  side  by  side,  confined  our  bodies  to- 
gether with  a handkerchief,  to  prevent  the  struggles  of  death  from 
severing  us.  Thus  we  lay  in  prayer  for  hours,  in  the  momentary 
expectation  of  dropping  to  sleep,  to  awake  in  eternity. 

“ My  wife  is  now  asleep ; I hope  to  wake  no  more  in  this  world ! 
I have  no  more  laudanum  to  take,  and  shall  await  the  disposition 
which  the  Lord  chooses  to  make  of  my  body;  content,  that  if  1 can- 
not die  with  my  wife,  I shall  ere  this  time  to-morrow  be  in  the 
realms  of  eternal  felicity.  „ “ j.  o.  beauchamp.” 

The  laudanum  failed  in  its  effect.  The  day  of  execution  arrived, 
and  the  morning  found  them  still  both  alive.  The  catastrophe  is 
best  told  in  the  verbatim  account  of  newspapers  of  the  day. 

“ At  an  early  hour  the  drums,  were  heard  beating,  and  men  in 
uniform  were  seen  mingling  among  the  citizens.  As  the  day  ad- 
vanced, people  came  pouring  in  from  the  country  in  every  direc- 
tion, filling  up  the  streets ; while  an  increasing  multitude  was  seen 
surrounding  the  gallows,  which  was  erected  on  a hill  near  the  place. 

“ About  the  hour  of  ten  o’clock  the  jailer  went  out,  and  no  per^ 
son  was  left  with  them  but  Mr.  Edrington,  the  guard.  A feeble 


280 


APPENDIX. 


candle  gave  the  only  light  which  shone  in  this  fearful  abode.  The 
only  entrance  was  through  a trap-door  above,  in  which  stood  a 
ladder. 

“ Beauchamp  and  his  wife  frequently  conversed  together  in  a 
whisper.  At  length,  she  requested  Mr.  Edrington  to  step  out  for  a 
minute,  alleging  that  she  wished  to  get  up.  He  ascended  the 
ladder,  and  shut  the  trap-door  partly  down,  but  kept  in  a position 
where  he  could  see  what  was  going  on  below.  There  was  no 
movement,  and  he  was  in  the  act  of  returning,  when  Mrs.  Beau- 
champ said,  ‘ Don’t  come  yet.’ — ‘ O yes,  come  down,’  said  Beau- 
champ. He  then  said  his  wife  was  too  weak  to  sit  up,  and  ex- 
pressed a wish  that  she  should  leave  the  jail ; and  the  guard  urged 
the  same  thing.  She  said  she  would  not  leave  her  husband  until  he 
was  taken  out  for  execution.  She  then  spoke  of  suicide,  and  declared 
she  would  not  survive  her  husband.  About  half  past  eleven,  the 
guard  observed  them  whispering  together  for  some  time.  At  length, 
Beauchamp  said  aloud,  1 My  dear,  you  are  not  strong  enough  to 
get  up.’ — ‘ Yes,  I am,’  said  she,  throwing  her  arms  up,  ‘ see  how 
strong  I am.’  She  then  requested  the  guard  to  step  out  immedi- 
ately, pretending  great  urgency.  He  again  went  up  the  ladder, 
turned  the  trap-door  partly  down,  and  was  stepping  round  into  a 
position  where  he  could  observe  them,  when  he  heard  a deep  sigh, 
and  Beauchamp  called  him.  He  went  down,  and  found  Beau- 
champ lying  on  his  back,  apparently  in  great  alarm,  and  in  loud 
and  earnest  prayer.  Mrs.  Beauchamp  was  lying  partly  on  her  left 
side,  with  her  head  on  her  husband’s  breast,  and  her  right  arm 
thrown  over  him.  The  guard  supposed  that  in  attempting  to  rise 
she  had,  from  weakness,  fallen  on  him.  Not  suspecting  anything 
very  serious  had  happened,  he  sat  down,  resting  his  head  on  the  ta- 
ble, until  Beauchamp  had  finished  his  prayer.  As  soon  as  he  had 
closed  his  prayer  he  seemed  entirely  composed,  and  observed  to  the 
guard,  ‘ Tell  my  father  that  my  wife  and  myself  are  going  straight 
to  heaven  ; we  are  dying.’  The  guard  replied,  c No,  I reckon  not.’ 
Beauchamp  said,  4 Yes,  it  is  so ; we  have  killed  ourselves.’  The 
guard  sprang  up,  suspecting  that  they  had  again  taken  poison ; but 
as  he  stepped  around  the  bed,  he  saw  something  in  Mrs.  B.’s  right 
hand.  He  raised  her  arm,  and  found  it  to  be  a knife,  sharpened  at 
the  point,  and  bloody  about  half-way  up.  He  asked  where  they  got 
that  knife  ; both  answered,  that  they  had  long  kept  it  concealed  for 
that  occasion.  On  discovering  the  bloody  knife,  the  guard  looked 
upon  the  bed,  and  discovered  that  Mrs.  B.  had  a stab  a little  to  the 


NOTES. 


281 


right  of  the  centre  of  the  abdomen,  which  had  been  laid  bare  for  that 
purpose.  She  did  not  sigh,  nor  groan,  nor  show  any  symptom  of 
pain.  He  asked  B.  whether  he  was  stabbed  too.  He  replied, 
* Yes;’  and  raised  up  his  shirt,  which  had  been  drawn  out  of  his 
drawers  and  rolled  up  on  his  hody  to  leave  it  bare,  but  had  fallen 
back  over  the  wound.  He  was  stabbed  about  the  centre  of  the 
body,  just  below  the  pit  of  the  stomach  ; but  his  wound  was  not  so 
wide  as  that  of  his  wife.  He  said  he  had  taken  the  knife  and 
struck  first ; and  that  his  wife  had  parried  his  arm,  wrested  the 
knife  from  him,  and  plunged  it  in  herself.  He  said  he  feared  his 
wound  was  not  mortal,  and  begged  the  guard  to  get  some  laudanum 
for  him. 

“ As  soon  as  he  discovered  they  were  stabbed,  the  guard  called 
for  assistance,  and  the  jailer  with  others  immediately  came  in. 
Beauchamp  begged  that  they  would  take  his  wife  out  and  attempt 
to  save  her.  Without  any  opposition  from  her,  she  was  im- 
mediately'removed  into  one  of  the  rooms  of  the  jailer’s  house.  To 
the  inquiries  of  those  who  surrounded  her  she  replied,  ‘ I struck  the 
fatal  blow  myself,  and  am  dying  for  my  dear  husband.’  She  now 
suffered  great  pain,  and  was  evidently  in  the  agonies  of  death. 
Her  screams  reached  the  ears  of  Beauchamp  in  his  dungeon,  and 
he  asked,  ‘ Is  that  my  dear  wife  'l  Do  bring  me  word  what  she 
says.’ 

“ The  physicians,  Roberts,  Majors,  Wilkinson,  had  examined 
her  wound,  and  pronounced  it  mortal,  especially  in  her  present 
debilitated  state. 

“ It  was  now  determined  to  take  him  to  the  gallows  as  soon  as 
possible.  They  were  carrying  him  through  the  passage  of  the 
jailer’s  house,  when  he  begged  to  see  his  wife.  The  physicians 
told  him  she  was  not  badly  hurt,  and  would  soon  get  over  it ; and 
some  objection  was  made  to  stopping".  He  said  it  was  cruel ; and 
they  carried  him  in  and  laid  him  on  the  bed  beside  her.  He  placed 
his  hand  on  her  face,  and  said,  ‘ My  dear,  do  you  know  that  this  is 
the  hand  of  your  husband  V She  returned  no  answer.  He  felt 
her  pulse,  and  said,  ‘Physicians,  you  have  deceived  me — she  is 
dying.’  To  the  ladies  who  surrounded  the  bed  he  said,  ‘ From 
you,  ladies,  I demand  a tear  of  sympathy.’  He  lay  conversing  with 
perfect  composure,  occasionally  putting  one  hand  upon  his  wife’s 
face,  and  feeling  her  pulse  with  the  other,  until  he  had  felt  the  last 
throb.  ‘ Farewell !’ said  he, ‘child  of  sorrow — Farewell!  child  of 


282 


APPENDIX. 


misfortune  and  persecution — you  are  now  secure  from  the  tongue 
of  slander. — For  you  I have  lived  ; for  you  I die.’  He  then  kissed 
her  twice  and  said,  * I am  now  ready  to  go.’ 

“ It  was  now  half  past  twelve  o’clock.  The  military  were  drawn 
up,  surrounded  by  an  immense  crowd,  all  of  whom  were  listening 
with  intense  interest  to  every  rumour  of  the  dying  pair.  As 
Beauchamp  was  too  weak  to  sit  on  his  coffin  in  a cart,  a covered 
dearborn  had  been  provided  for  his  conveyance  to  the  gallows.  He 
was  now  brought  out  in  a blanket  and  laid  in  it.  At  his  particular 
request,  Mr.  Mdntosh  took  a seat  by  his  side.  Some  of  the  minis- 
ters of  the  Gospel  had  taken  leave  of  him,  to  whom  he  expressed  the 
same  confidence  in  the  forgiveness  of  his  sins,  and  the  hope  of  a 
happy  immortality,  as  in  the  morning.  The  drums  beat,  and  the 
military  and  crowd  moved  on. 

“‘This  music,’  said  he,  ‘ is  delightful;  I never  moved  more 
happily  in  my  life.’  Observing  many  ladies  looking  out  at  the 
windows,  he  requested  the  side  curtains  of  the  dearborn  to  be  raised 
so  that  he  could  see  them,  and  raising  up  a little,  continued  to  wave 
his  hand  to  them  in  token  of  respect,  until  the  procession  got  out 
of  town. 

“ When  they  had  reached  the  gallows,  and  he  saw  his  coffin,  he 
seemed  wholly  unmoved.  The  Rev.  Eli  Smith,  S.  M.  Pinel, 
J.  T.  Mills,  and  other  preachers  surrounded  him,  inquiring  the 
state  of  his  mind.  To  all  of  their  questions  he  answered  he  was 
sure  of  going  to  heaven — that  his  sins  were  forgiven  him  on 
Thursday  morning.  In  every  interval  of  the  conversation  he 
would  say,  with  some  impatience,  ‘ I want  to  be  executed — I want 
to  go  to  my  wife.’ 

“ He  was  now  lifted  out  of  the  dearborn  in  a blanket,  and  set  up, 
supported  by  those  around  him,  on  his  coffin,  in  the  cart.  He  asked 
for  water,  and  requested  that  while  a messenger  was  gone  for  it, 
the  music  would  play  Bonaparte’s  retreat  from  Moscow.  On  his 
repeated  request  it  was  done.  He  then  drank  some  water,  and  in 
a firm  voice  requested  that  they  would  tell  him  when  they  were 
ready,  and  said  he  would  rise  up.  He  was  told  all  was  ready  : 
with  assistance,  he  rose  up  ; the  cart  started  ; and  he  was  launched 
into  eternity. 

“In  a few  hours  his  afflicted  father  started  with  the  two  bodies 
for  Bloomfield,  Nelson  county,  where  they  were  buried,  both  in  one 
coffin.” 


NOTES. 


283 


Note  L. — Page 207. 

The  following  extract  from  the  private  journal  of  Col.  Long  forms 
a part  of  the  paper  alluded  to  in  the  text. 

“ Having  ascended  Cove  Ridge,  we  turned  aside  from  our  route 
to  visit  the  natural  bridge,  or  tunnel,  situated  on  Buckeye,  or  Stock 
Creek,  about  a mile  below  the  Sycamore  Camp,*  and  about  one 
mile  and  a half  from  the  place  called  Rye  Cove,  which  occupies  a 
spacious  recess  between  two  prominent  spurs  of  Powell’s  mountain, 
the  site  of  the  natural  tunnel  being  included  within  a spur  of  Cove 
Ridge,  which  is  one  of  the  mountain  spurs  just  alluded  to.  Here 
is  presented  one  of  the  most  remarkable  and  attractive  curiosities  of 
of  its  land  to  be  witnessed  in  this  or  any  other  country.  The  creek, 
which  is  about  seven  yards  wide,  and  has  a general  course  about  S. 
15  W.,  here  passes  through  a hill  elevated  from  two  to  three 
hundred  feet  above  the  surface  of  the  stream,  winding  its  way 
through  a huge  subterraneous  cavern,  or  grotto,  whose  roof  is 
vaulted  in  a peculiar  manner,  and  rises  from  thirty  to  seventy  or 
eighty  feet  above  its  floor.  The  sides  of  this  gigantic  cavern  rises 
perpendicular  in  some  places  to  the  height  of  fifteen  or  twenty  feet, 
and  in  others  are  formed  by  the  springing  of  its  vaulted  roof  im- 
mediately from  its  floor.  The  width  of  the  tunnel  varies  from  fifty 
to  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet ; its  course  is  that  of  a continuous 
curve,  resembling  the  letter  S,  first  winding  to  the  right  as  we 
enter  on  the  upper  side,  then  to  the  left,  again  to  the  right,  and  then 
again  to  the  left,  on  arriving  at  the  entrance  on  the  lower  side. 
Such  is  its  peculiar  form,  that  an  observer  standing  at  a point  about 
midway  of  its  subterranean  course  is  completely  excluded  from  a 
view  of  either  entrance,  and  is  left  to  grope  in  the  dark  through  a 
distance  of  about  twenty  yards,  occupying  an  intermediate  portion  of 
the  tunnel.  When  the  sun  is  near  tire  meridian,  and  his  rays  fall 
upon  both  entrances,  the  light  reflected  from  both  extremities  of  the 
tunnel  contributes  to  mollify  the  darkness  of  the  interior  portion 
into  a dusky  twilight. 

“ The  extent  of  the  tunnel,  from  its  upper  to  its  lower  extremity, 
following  its  meanders,  is  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  yards,  in 

* This  designation  has  been  given  to  a spot  in  the  valley  of  the  creek, 
where  formerly  stood  a hollow  sycamore  (platanus  occidentalis)  tree  of  an 
enormous  size,  the  remains  of  which  are  still  to  be  seen,  and  in  the  cavity 
of  which,  while  it  stood,  fifteen  persons  are  said  to  have  encamped  at  the 
same  time  together. 


284 


APPENDIX. 


which  distance  the  stream  falls  about  ten  feet,  emitting,  in  its 
passage  over  a rocky  bed,  an  agreeable  murmur,  which  is  rendered 
more  grateful  by  its  reverberations  upon  the  roof  and  sides  of  the 
grotto.  The  discharge  of  a musket  produces  a crash-like  report, 
succeeded  by  a roar  in  the  tunnel,  which  has  a deafening  effect 
upon  the  ear. 

“The  hill  through  which  this  singular  perforation  leads  de- 
scends in  a direction  from  east  to  west,  across  the  line  of  the  creek, 
and  affords  a very  convenient  passage  for  a road  which  traverses  it 
at  this  place,  having  a descent,  in  the  direction  just  mentioned,  of 
about  four  degrees. 

“ The  rocks  found  in  this  part  of  the  country  are  principally 
sandstone  and  limestone,  in  stratifications  nearly  horizontal,  with 
occasional  beds  of  clay  slate.  A mixture  of  the  two  former 
frequently  occurs  among  the  alternations  presented  by  these  rocks. 
A variety  of  rock  resembling  the  French  bur  occurs  in  abundance 
on  Butcher’s  Fork,  or  Powell’s  River,  about  twenty  miles  north- 
wardly of  the  natural  tunnel.  Fossils  are  more  or  less  abundant  in 
these  and  other  rocks.  ' Fossil  bones  of  an  interesting  character 
have  been  found  in  several  places.  Saltpetre  caves  are  numerous. 
Coves,  sinks,  and  subterranean  caverns  are  strikingly  characteristic, 
not  only  of  the  country  circumjacent  to  the  natural  tunnel,  but  of 
the  region  generally  situated  between  the  Cumberland  Mountain 
and  the  Blue  Ridge  or  Apalachian  Mountain.  Bituminous  coal, 
with  its  usual  accompaniments,  abounds  in  the  northerly  parts  of 
this  region ; and  in  the  intermediate  and  southerly  portions,  iron, 
variously  combined,  often  magnetic,  together  with  talcose  rocks,  &c. 
&c.,  are  to  be  met  with  in  great  abundance. 

“The  mountains  in  this  vicinity,  long.  82°  to  84°  W.  from 
Greenwich,  lat.  35°  to  36°  N.,  are  among  the  most  lofty  of  the 
Alleghany  range.  Several  knobs  in  this  part  of  the  range,  among 
which  may  be  enumerated  the  Roan,  the  Unaka,  the  Bald,  the 
Black,  and  Powell’s  mountains,  rise  to  the  height  of  at  least  four 
thousand  five  hundred  feet  above  tide.” 

Noth  M. — Page  224. 

The  circumstances  relating  to  this  affair  are  thus  related  by  Col. 
Stewart,  as  quoted  in  the  “ Sketches  of  Western  Adventure.” 

“ A Captain  Arbuckle  commanded  the  garrison  of  the  fort  erected 
at  Point  Pleasant  after  the  battle  fought  by  General  Lewis  with 
the  Indians  at  that  place  in  October,  1774.  In  the  succeeding  year, 


NOTES. 


285 


when  the  revolutionary  war  had  commenced,  the  agents  of  Great 
Britain  exerted  themselves  to  excite  the  Indians  to  hostility  against 
the  Americans,  towards  whom  the  most  of  the  Shawanees  already 
entertained  a strong  animosity.  Two  of  the  chiefs,  however,  not 
participating  in  that  animosity,  visited  the  garrison  at  the  Point 
when  Arbuckle  continued  to  command.  Col.  Stewart  was  at  the 
post  in  the  character  of  volunteer,  and  was  an  eye-witness  of  the 
facts  which  he  relates.  Cornstalk  represented  his  unwillingness  to 
take  a part  in  the  war  on  the  British  side  ; but  stated  that  his  peo- 
ple, except  himself  and  his  tribe,  were  determined  on  war  with  us. 
and  he  supposed  that  he  and  his  people  would  have  to  go  with  the 
stream.  On  this  intimation  Arbuckle  resolved  to  detain  the  two 
chiefs  and  a third  Shawanee  who  came  with  them  to  the  fort  as 
hostages,  under  the  expectation  of  preventing  thereby  any  hostile 
effort  of  the  nation.  On  the  day  before  these  unfortunate  Indians 
fell  victims  to  the  fury  of  the  garrison,  Elenipsico,  the  son  of  Corn- 
stalk, repaired  to  Point  Pleasant  for  the  purpose  of  visiting  his 
father.  The  succeeding  day  two  men  belonging  to  the  garrison, 
whose  names  were  Harrison  and  Gilmore,  crossed  the  Kenawha  for 
the  purpose  of  hunting  in  the  woods  beyond  it.  On  their  return 
from  hunting,  some  Indians  who  had  come  to  view  the  position  at 
the  Point,  concealed  themselves  in  the  woods  near  the  mouth  of  the 
Kenawha,  and  killed  Gilmore  while  endeavouring  to  pass  them. 
Col.  Stewart  and  Captain  Arbuckle  were  standing  on  the  opposite 
bank  of  the  river  at  the  time,  and  were  surprised  that  a gun  had 
been  fired  so  near  the  fort,  in  violation  of  orders  which  had  been 
issued  inhibiting  such  an  act.  Hamilton  ran  down  the  bank,  and 
cried  out  that  Gilmore  was  killed.  Captain  Hall  commanded  the 
company  to  which  Gilmore  belonged : his  men  leaped  into  a canoe, 
and  hastened  to  the  relief  of  Hamilton.  They  brought  the  body  of 
Gilmore,  weltering  in  blood,  and  the  head  scalped,  across  the  river. 
The  canoe  had  scarcely  reached  the  shore,  when  Hall's  men  cried 
out,  “ Let  us  kill  the  Indians  in  the  fort !’  Captain  Hall  placed  him- 
self in  front  of  his  soldiers,  and  they  ascended  the  river’s  bank  pale 
with  rage,  and  carrried  their  loaded  firelocks  in  their  hands.  Colo- 
nel Stewart  and  Captain  Arbuckle  exerted  themselves  in  vain  to 
dissuade  these  men,  exasperated  to  madness  by  the  spectacle  of 
Gilmore’s  corpse,  from  the  cruel  deed  which  they  contemplated. 
They  cocked  their  guns,  threatening  those  gentlemen  with  instant 
death  if  they  did  not  desist,  and  rushed  into  the  fort.” 

“ The  interpreter’s  wife,  who  had  been  a captive  among  the  In- 

VOL.  II — B b. 


286 


APPENDIX. 


dians,  and  felt  an  affection  for  them,  ran  to  their  cabin  and  informed 
them  that  Hall’s  soldiers  were  advancing  with  the  intention  of 
taking  their  lives,  because  they  believed  that  the  Indians  who 
killed  Gilmore  had  come  with  Cornstalk’s  son  on  the  preceding 
day.  This  the  young  man  solemnly  denied,  and  avowed  that  he 
knew  nothing  of  them.  His  father,  perceiving  that  Elenipsico  was 
in  great  agitation,  encouraged  him,  and  advised  him  not  to  fear. 
6 If  the  Great  Spirit,’  said  he,  1 has  sent  you  here  to  be  killed,  you 
ought  to  die  like  a man !’  As  the  soldiers  approached  the  door, 
Cornstalk  rose  to  meet  them,  and  received  seven  or  eight  balls, 
which  instantly  terminated  his  existence.  His  son  was  shot  down 
in  the  seat  which  he  occupied.  The  Red  Hawk  made  an  attempt 
to  climb  the  chimney,  but  fell  by  the  fire  of  some  of  Hall’s  men. 
c The  other  Indian,’  says  Colonel  Stewart,  1 was  shamefully  man- 
gled, and  I grieved  to  see  him  so  long  dying.’  ” 


THE  END. 


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